


grow me a garden

by hicsvntdracones



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Cats, Curtain Fic, Domestic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Semi-Epistolary, Team as Family, They bang a lot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tuukka Rask known dater of Finns except when Anton comes along, cat dad Tuukka Rask, idk how to tag this, there's lots of fun jokes and inappropriately gossipy teammates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 14:50:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11061258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hicsvntdracones/pseuds/hicsvntdracones
Summary: >> I'm just alone and feeling like a loser<< You don't have to be alone!!<< [boys holding hands emoji, sparkling heart]Tuukka Rask and a hilariously cliched exploration of intimacy, comfort, and cats.





	grow me a garden

**Author's Note:**

  * For [savedby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/savedby/gifts).



> *jazz hands* my girl wanted curtain fic, i gave her curtain fic. title is from "roses" by poets of the fall. 
> 
> ok so: thank you so so so _so_ much to my darling pasha for being the main beta on this and never letting me give up, the amazing mich for being my sanity during this final push and making sense of my nonsense, sweet miss jess for the wonderful nsfw inspiration and positively heart-wrenching [playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/user/213eops2p4a4s53r6owwvfihy/playlist/13NuK1Ge8pU6J1JaxtqEpc) and for brenn and nicole for helping beta, as well as jarka for being lovely in general. thank you to everyone who encouraged me along the way, i love you all, and of course—!!! the biggest thank you to the girl herself: julija. you have waited so patiently for this fic and have been a constant source of inspiration and love. this is for you; i love you with all my heart, and i love these silly bruin boys who love each other. 
> 
> if you, dear reader whoever you may be, do not love the bruins, i hope that all the love i poured into this fic is enough to convince you to love them too. there's lots of side-pairings alluded to, and enough drama to feed a family of five for a week. i had an absolute _blast_ writing this despite many many many headaches. it was an immense challenge for me personally bc i typically don't write fluff and i've never written anything quite like this in epistolary form. this transformed from what was a simple anton/tuukka fluff piece to a nearly 30k study on intimacy, trust, and the bruins as a family. _all that being said!!!_ there's stupid jokes and found family and domestic feels all around, so please sit back, grab your popcorn, and enjoy!!!

 

 

 

 

> Mon Aug 1 2016
> 
> KLM 900 / Boeing 737
> 
> Depart **MOSCOW, RUS** (SVO) at 05:30
> 
> Arrive **AMSTERDAM, NL** (AMS) at 07:10
> 
> 3h 40m
> 
>  
> 
> _Layover in Amsterdam AMS_
> 
> 3h 20m
> 
>  
> 
> Delta 125 / Airbus A330
> 
> Depart **AMSTERDAM, NL** (AMS) at 10:30
> 
> Arrive **BOSTON, MA, USA** (BOS) at 12:45
> 
> 8h 15m

 

He signs over twenty different items and takes twenty more pictures by the time Anton's flight lands in Logan Airport. Tuukka returns the sharpie to the starstruck Starbucks barista and asks for the sweetest drink they have. With extra whipped cream. He signs three more things and leaves a twenty in the tip jar before hustling to the arrivals area just outside baggage claim.

Anton has a Bruins shirt on and a Bruins cap and piled on top of his luggage is a Bruins duffel bag too. Needless to say, Tuukka thinks he's excited to be back in Boston. He catches Anton's eye, and Anton's whole face lights up with joy. He comes rushing up to Tuukka, but the cart swerves a bit and Anton's sticks slide off. Tuukka stoops to catch them just before they go skittering across the airport floor. He looks up at Anton from his knees, sticks in one hand, coffee in another, and after a long, long pause Anton lets out a hilarious little laugh. It's a beautiful sound that Tuukka forced himself not to miss for years. Tuukka smiles back awkwardly as Anton takes his sticks and loads them back onto the cart. Fidgeting with the coffee in his hand, Tuukka wonders whether to hug him.

There's whispers of his name from behind him — _Bruins' goalie, oh my god, that's him —_ so Tuukka shoves the coffee into Anton's hands and settles on saying simply,

"Welcome back to Boston."

 

They drive with the windows down, and the songs on the radio get swallowed up by the sound of the wind and the city around them. Anton hums distractedly as they pass a pizzeria and coos at a dog park they pass.

Tuukka's hand is on the doorknob as he realizes,

"Shit. You aren't allergic to cats, are you?"

Anton blinks at him in confusion.

"No?"

"Oh, good. Um. I have a cat. Sort of," Turning back to the door, he mumbles and fumbles with his keys until he gets it open. Anton says something about loving cats, asking when he got a cat, and Tuukka makes a loud umm as he tries to get all their luggage inside.

She's sitting on the counter when Tuukka turns around.

"Patty," He hisses, pushing the bundle of sticks into Anton's arms as he rushes to get the cat off the counter. "You know you're not allowed on the counter, oh my god, you—"

She meows loudly as Tuukka scoops her up off the counter and smacks her gently on her behind. She meows again, more pitifully this time, and Tuukka can never hit her more than once, even when she clawed up one of his Plzeň shirts. In the blink of an eye, Anton is standing in front of him, eyes wide and shining as he looks at the cat.

"He's beautiful."

"She," Tuukka corrects. His fingers curl in the long, soft fur at the nape of her neck. Anton smiles as gently as Tuukka's ever seen a person smile as he leans in to scratch behind her ears, fingers brushing Tuukka's. He lowers his voice, "Her name's Patty. Patty Marchand, but we all call her Patty Cakes or Miss Pity Patty, because she meows really pathetically sometimes and we all, um, baby her a lot."

"Marchand?" His tone is strange in a way Tuukka doesn't recognize. Anton is nothing if not an open book, always willing to talk with teammates or media alike about anything and everything at all. He doesn't stop petting Patty though.

"She's Brad's. It's a long story about how he got her, but I'm looking after her while he and Patrice are in Halifax."

"He and ... Bergy," Anton says carefully, and Tuukka nods, feels himself smile a bit.

"Yeah. They finally pulled their heads out of their asses last year and got together."

Anton exhales another soft _oh_ and leans forward to give Patty's nose a little kiss.

"Good, congratulations to them."

 

> >> Patty update: 
> 
> >> [video of a tortoiseshell cat wearing a Bruins' collar curled up on someone's lap, purring intensely as she is scratched behind the ears]
> 
> << BABY GIRL [numerous heart eyes emojis and various hearts]
> 
> << tell her daddy loves her very much and misses her [crying cat emoji, broken heart emoji]
> 
> >> She says she misses u too
> 
> << does Dobby like her??
> 
> >> He's her new bff, but don't tell Bergy
> 
> << [gasping emoji]

 

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes!"

"Do you two need any help finding things today?" A girl in her early twenties comes up to them in the aisle as Tuukka is shaking the blue curtains at Anton who is holding red. They both turn to her at the same time, and if her reaction is anything to go by, they likely wore the same terrifying expression too.

"If you need any help, do ask," She waves a hand and forces a smile before scurrying away from their argument.

Tuukka had agreed to let Anton have semi-free range over the decorating situation at his apartment. Their apartment. It was their apartment now. Anton was paying half the rent and after a week together, Anton had already started to call it home. Standing here in the middle of Bed Bath and Beyond, they were trying to make it truly "home" together. Trying is the key word.

Anton waves the red curtains in front of Tuukka's face.

"Tuukka, you're my starter and my landlord both, but I remind you it is my home too now."

Tuukka looks between Anton and the deep red curtains with their white stitching for a long moment and scowls the entire time. He has never been a fan of red. The Habs wear red, Canada wears red, the Caps wear red. Russia wears red. He holds firm onto the blue and furrows his eyebrows in stubborn defiance. It is to be their home, yes, but Tuukka really hates red.

"No," He says through gritted teeth which makes Anton snort in amusement. He steps closer and closer to Tuukka, who finds his back against the shelves of curtains and liners. The feeling of the metal digging into his shoulders startles him, but he has nowhere to go. He looks down at Anton, face heating up as Anton leans in and presses his hand against Tuukka's chest.

"You know, Tuukka," Anton murmurs quietly in the space between them. He becomes fixated on Anton's light blonde eyelashes and the glint of his necklace poking out of his shirt. "Has anyone ever said you are difficult?"

He blinks and answers on auto-pilot.

"Tim Thomas did."

Then Anton is laughing again and putting the blue curtains back on the shelf. Tuukka looks at his empty hands and sputters as he realizes Anton's trick. He chases Anton around the store as Anton weaves the shopping cart up and down aisles. His smile never disappears for a second, and he jokes about buying the entire section of the store with Bruins decorations.

"Look at _these_ curtains _._ " Wrapping himself in curtains with the trademark Boston spoked wheel, Anton lets out a dreamy sigh. Tuukka rolls his eyes and tries to tug Anton away.

"We see black and gold all the time at work, we don't need it a—" His protest gets turned into a choked off sort of screech as Anton drags him into the curtain display. Polyester brushes across his face, his hands find cotton then silk then cotton again. His vision swims with gold and the echo of Anton's smile. He pushes away the curtains until only a sheer layer of white separates them. Everything slows, and Tuukka stares at Anton's eyelashes again and the perfect curve of his lips.

He draws in a breath of air to speak.

A child wails somewhere nearby.

Tuukka shoves the curtains away and mutters about going to the check-out aisles. Anton doesn't smile as much as they make their way to the front of the store, but he jokes with the cashier who somehow doesn't recognize them at all.

 

Ron gives them an odd look when Anton describes the design he wants for his mask. It's basically a twin of Tuukka's, except instead of Rask along the mandible, he requests Dobby with the Bruins' B in the middle. He says _yeah, I can do that_ , and does a very poor job hiding his smirk as he jots down notes on his drawing pad. Excusing himself, he disappears into the back room and leaves Anton and Tuukka to flip through the book of designs. Anton looks at a two-headed eagle and asks Tuukka if he should add that to the back of his helmet. Tuukka fakes a gagging noise just to be dramatic.

"One Team Finland mask, a la Rask." Ron says upon his return. Tuukka lifts his head to see and immediately lets out a noise of appreciation. He trusted Ron with his first Bruins' mask design, his trademark. He trusted him with his Olympic mask, and now he is glad he trusted him for the World Cup. Ron gives it to him.

He turns it over in his hands and grins, wide and satisfied.

"It's perfect, man. Absolutely perfect."

Carefully, Tuukka places the box with his mask in the back of the car. As he shuts the trunk, Anton asks what their next plan is. Tuukka stares at him blankly and shrugs.

They drive around for twenty or thirty minutes trying to figure out what to do, and Tuukka realizes just how often it's others dictating what to do or where to go when he goes out in Boston. Brad always has a clear grasp on what he wants, Milan always knew where to go, Adam is a good decision-maker too. Tuukka's hands flutter on the wheel at a red light. Maybe he is difficult. He never thought of himself as such, but Tim always joked about it and their goaltending coach nagged at Tuukka sometimes for being a tough customer. He—

"Tuukka," Anton says, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Light is green."

Tuukka focuses on the road, and Anton decides they should take a walk along the harbor front.

They find a row of food trucks along the harbor that they peruse before settling on getting two vegetarian sandwiches. Steak and pasta is a staple of their diet, so Tuukka enjoys the change. Anton gets something with a ridiculous amount of cheese, and Tuukka has something with onions and mushrooms. They sit on a stone bench and eat as they watch the bay. From the noises he makes, Tuukka can tell Anton is _loving_ his sandwich.

"You _must_ try it, you must." Anton waves his sandwich in front of Tuukka enticingly, and he admits it _does_ smell quite delicious. Anton waggles his eyebrows which gets Tuukka to give in. He opens his mouth, and Anton lifts the grilled cheese for him, smiling as wide as the waterfront is long as he watches Tuukka take a bite. Tuukka chews with a pensive expression before swallowing and nodding.

“I like it,” He declares solidly. He lifts his hands from his lap and offers Anton a bite of his own in return. He leans into Anton’s shoulder as he reaches to hold the sandwich for him and even when Anton has taken his bite, Tuukka stays pressed there for a moment.

“Mmm- _mm_!” Anton hums and the whole harbor seems a bit louder, a bit livelier. Tuukka smiles back, and they finish most of their respective sandwiches in peace.

A giggly girl with wild and frizzy hair comes up to them as Tuukka is still munching on his chips. Another girl follows close behind, clutching the other’s hand and flushing a dark red as Tuukka looks at her. The frizzy-haired girl barely acknowledges Tuukka though.

“Dobby! Hi, oh my gosh—“ Anton’s face lights up when she says his name so eagerly. “ _Oh_ my gosh, okay, I _love_ the Bruins, but I’m a _huge_ Canes fan too, and I watched you in Carolina backing up Wardo, and I just wanted to say I’m so _so_ happy you signed here again, and, uh, welcome back!” The girl is winded when she finally stops speaking, and Anton looks flattered enough to cry.

“Thank you,” He says warmly. “That means a lot to me. I am also glad to be back home in Boston.”

The girl asks Anton if she can get a selfie with him, and he immediately says yes, proclaims that he loves selfies. Tuukka finishes his chips and stands to go toss their trash away. As he comes back to stand beside Anton, the girl looks at Tuukka at last.

“Tuukka, could I get a picture of you too?”

“Uh, sure,” He says.

“Oh, not with me, sorry, actually my girlfriend is a _huge_ fan of yours.” The girl turns to wave her friend – girlfriend – over. Her girlfriend has her hands clasped awkwardly over her phone and she’s staring at Tuukka like he’s either the next Messiah or he’s got three heads. Tuukka nods again, and the girl shuffles over nervously.

She brushes her hair behind her ear quickly and Tuukka puts his arm on her shoulder, feels her tense up for a moment before she settles her hand on his back.

“Smile!” The first girl cheers.

When Tuukka steps back, the smaller girl’s cheeks are red, but she’s beaming with joy.

“Good luck at the World Cup,” She squeaks out. “I hope you beat Sweden.”

Anton snorts in amusement, says that Henrik Lundqvist doesn’t stand a chance against Tuukka Rask. The girl nods a few times and then meekly asks if she can give Tuukka a hug. Most fans are too nervous to ask for such, and most players don’t hug fans as a rule. Tuukka hugs her though. He feels her make a small surprised noise, as if she expected him to say no. Then, she’s hugging him back, squeezing him just a tiny bit, probably too shy to, say, bear hug an NHL goaltender. The two girls wander off giggling and smiling like the sun after they say thank you and goodbye, and Tuukka turns to see Anton looking at him with soft brown eyes.

“Let’s take a selfie too!” He grabs Tuukka’s hand and tugs him back down onto the bench, thumbing through his phone for the camera app. Their hands are pressed to the bench between them, and Anton’s skin is warm against his. Tuukka shuffles closer, keeps their hands out of sight but doesn’t let go. After finding a suitable angle to hold the camera, Anton tilts his head towards Tuukka and tells him to smile.

Tuukka’s smile is a little crooked and the light reflecting off Anton’s sunglasses on top of his head is a little weird. But it’s a good photo. Tuukka keeps his head tilted close as Anton pulls up Instagram.

"Ah—" Tuukka puts his hand over Anton's phone quickly, and Anton turns to stare at him in confusion. Their faces are too close, and Tuukka backs away an inch as he warns Anton that posting that picture isn't a good idea. After a pause, Anton shrugs and says _okay_ and asks Tuukka to take a picture of him instead.

"Only me, by harbor. I want to say I'm back in Boston, you know."

Anton goes over to the railing by the harbor and sits on one of the posts. He throws his leg up and flicks his sunglasses back down off his head and poses. Tuukka snorts and takes the shot.

 

> **@anton_khudobin31official:**  
> 
> "Happy to be back!!! Feels like i never left!!! #boston #seaport #bostonharbor #bostonharborhotel @nhlbruins"

 

The buzzing of his phone scares Patty away from their game of chase-the-ribbon. Tuukka watches her scurry up onto Anton's lap for protection against the buzzing sound, and Tuukka snatches his phone off the coffee table. He grumbles, 

"What do you want?"

"How's my cat?" Brad asks in a syrupy sweet voice. Tuukka looks up at her being adored currently and says as much. Brad makes a gushing sort of noise as he repeats Tuukka's words to someone else, likely Patrice. He glances at his watch.

"You're flying in tomorrow, right?"

"Uhhh," Brad stalls. "About that..."

Anton and Patty both wear the same startled expression as Tuukka sits up off the floor and almost yells into the phone.

"What the _fuck_ , Brad?! The Yankees are in town! We've been looking forward to this series all year!"

"I know! I know, babe, oh my god, I know! I'm sorry—"

"Sorry my ass, Brad," Tuukka hisses, lowering his voice. "You and Bergy just want to stay up there with your new boy."

Brad gasps.

"Do not bring him into this. I'll have you know it's Jeff's birthday, and my mom is making cake, and my dad and I are gonna go hunting and—"

"Ew, gross, don't talk about that."

"What is your problem with fishing and hunting? You're not even vegan, Tuukks."

"No, okay, we're not talking about that. You're ditching me for cake."

"Tuukks. Babe. You've had my mom's cake, _you_ would ditch you for it."

"Not if the Yankees were in town."

"Tuuk— oh my god, whatever. Take Dobby, he'll love it. You guys can eat hot dogs and sing off-key together during the stretch."

"I don't want to take Dobby, the Red Sox are _our_ thing."

"Well, for one friggin' series, it can be you and Dobby's thing." Tuukka hears chatter in the background, a dog barking, Patrice calling Brad's name. Brad sighs, "Go live a little, Tuukks. I gotta go, I love you, goodbye."

"I—" He hears the other end go silent and sits there with his phone still pressed against his ear and his free hand pressed against the carpet. After a long pause to process, he finally sets his phone back down on the table, a little aggressively, and goes back to laying face down on the carpet except without a cat this time.

"What's wrong, Tuukka?" Anton asks softly. Tuukka feels kitten paws land on his thighs and then a solid lump climbs and sits on his lower back. Tuukka shifts to see Anton lay down next to him on the carpet, head propped up on his hand. "Is Marchy okay?"

Tuukka turns his head away from Anton and grouses,

"He's a shitty best friend." 

Anton doesn't respond for a while, but Patty starts to knead his back, so Tuukka knows he's petting her.

"Do you miss him?"

Tuukka turns again and tries his best to glare at Anton. He probably doesn't have the most intimidating look going on at the moment, laying on a gray plush carpet in a frumpy sweater with a cat kneading his butt.

"Not anymore."

Tuukka ends up taking Anton to the Red Sox game, but definitely not because Brad said to do it. They have season tickets, and it's just sad to go to a game alone and sit there with a hot dog and cheer by one's self. So he takes Anton. He tries to find a shirt that will fit Anton, but most of his t-shirts are of a tighter fit. He stares at Anton for a long while as he stands in the closet deciding what to do. Patty meows on the bed, and Anton stares back at him.

"Don't you dare get ketchup on this, okay?" Tuukka warns gravely as he reaches up to pluck a certain hanger off the rack.

"I won't," Anton promises, and Tuukka stares at the jersey in his hands before handing it to Anton. He turns it over in his hands and runs his fingertips over the thick signature on the bright red numbers. 

"Varitek?"

"Jason Varitek, he was... … just wear it. And … don't get ketchup on it. Please."

Tuukka offers Anton one of his Red Sox hats to wear, but Anton shrugs it off, tells Tuukka he's not famous enough to be recognized.

"The girl at the harbor recognized you," Tuukka reminds him which gets a big smile in return. Anton refuses the hat still, so Tuukka just puts on his favorite dark blue ball cap and pats Patty goodbye.

The entire drive is spent explaining the basics. Most things go over Anton's head, and Tuukka sympathizes. He sat in Fenway Park for half a season with Brad years ago and stared blankly at the field before anything really made sense. American baseball is weird. They park and walk into the stadium and find their seats before Anton manages to ask something in between Tuukka's ramblings.

"Where did you get this Varitek jersey?"

"Oh. Uh." Tuukka rubs at the back of his neck a bit. "Marchy got it for my birthday a few years ago. He name-dropped and showed his Stanley Cup ring and got in to see them. He got me into the Red Sox, and I always liked the catchers most. So he bought a game-worn jersey and got his signature right before he retired. Gave one of Big Z's jerseys in return."

He pointedly focuses on Porcello and Leon warming up on the diamond to avoid Anton's gaze.

By the third inning, Anton is starting to ask questions. Like any netminder, he observes mostly and tries to draw conclusions from what he sees. Anton points out Benintendi when he catches sight of him running the diamond and remarks on Tuukka's own jersey bearing the number forty. Tuukka cheers when Benintendi scores, and Fenway Park does the same.

Anton's shoulder is solid, and the air is warm, and Tuukka lets himself lean against Anton comfortably. The innings wind on as the sun goes down behind the Boston skyline. Anton rests his hand on Tuukka's knee sometime in the eighth, and the noise of the stadium isn't enough to drown out his heart beating loudly in his ears.

 

> **Red Sox 5, Yankees 3**
> 
> Tuesday, August 9, 2016
> 
> FINAL    1   2   3   4   5   6   7   8   9         **H**   R  E
> 
> NYY       0   1   1   0   0   0   0   0   1         **3**   7   0
> 
> BOS 0   0   2   0   4   0   0   0   X         **5**   9   1

 

Patrice and Brad come back from Halifax with matching tans and a little gift bag for Tuukka. Patty meows louder than Tuukka has ever heard her as Brad picks her up and kisses her all over her face. He hands Patty to Patrice and insists that Tuukka open the gift right now. Tuukka obliges, then nearly screams.

"Oh—my fucking god, where the hell did you get this?" Tuukka holds the chocolate bars up demandingly. Patrice smiles, and Brad grins.

"We found this little international market! Sid finds Russian stuff there all the time, said there was Swedish stuff, probably Finnish too. So we checked and—voila!"

Anton takes the candy bars from Tuukka's hand and looks at their label.

"Karl Fazer?"

"It’s the most Finnish of chocolates,” Tuukka says a little too emphatically. It comes out more like a declaration, and Anton smiles in delight.

They catch up over tea and then Patrice and Anton make dinner as Tuukka lays on the sofa with Brad. Patty takes up residence on Tuukka’s stomach, and he catches the way Brad pouts the whole time they’re watching TV. Patrice is talking about their trip to Quebec earlier in the summer, and Anton talks about being home in Magnitogorsk. Brad chimes into Patrice’s stories ever so often, but otherwise entertains himself with kicking Tuukka’s feet gently.

Dinner goes well until it doesn’t.

The World Cup is brought up, because Tuukka didn’t already have enough anxiety about the event. He shovels pasta in his mouth to avoid having to speak. Anton seems to get the hint that Tuukka’s in a foul mood, so he chatters on about the possibilities of the young guns or Z’s team. They wander around to the topic of Finland, and, of course, Tuukka is all out of pasta.

"Won't the Finnish team for the Cup just be a huge reunion of all your exes?" Brad asks with a mouthful of steak. Patrice looks horrified for Brad's question and quickly smacks his arm, making Brad hiss. Tuukka's face feels hot. Normally, he wouldn't mind a jibe about this. He and Brad have been friends since they were waiting to be called up from Providence, but Anton is sitting next to him now, and all Tuukka feels is white hot shame. He tries to bite back,

"And how many guys on Team Canada have you fucked?" Now would be someone's turn to smack Tuukka's arm. Tuukka feels Anton tense up and turns to look at him quizzically. His glare is not something Tuukka is used to, and it makes him want to take back his words. When he turns back to Brad and Patrice, they're bickering about Sidney Crosby, which — _honestly_ — Tuukka doesn't want to know about. He sets his fork down and makes an excuse to leave. 

Patty jumps off of the coffee table to follow him down the hall, her tail flicking his ankle softly.

He drifts off to the distant sound of chatter and the dishwasher being loaded. Patty is dozing in the crook of his elbow when Anton comes in later. The bed dips, and Anton murmurs,

"Here." He puts two pills in Tuukka's open palm and waits for him to sit up to hand him the glass of water. Tuukka sits up but gives Anton an odd look. Anton curls his hand carefully around the back of Tuukka's neck, feeling the warm skin there and trying to weigh his reactions.

"You have a migraine, no?"

Tuukka shakes his head, switching Anton for the glass of water and handing him the pills to keep.

"Oh. I thought..." He trails off. His nails scratch the base of Tuukka's skull, making him tilt his head forward a bit to coax Anton further. He applies more pressure, just like Tuukka likes, and then he says matter-of-factly, "Not a migraine. Marchy's joke about World Cup made you mad."

"Mm." Tuukka responds. The lingering shame makes dinner settle wrong in his stomach.

"Can I ask why?" Anton whispers, but truly, his chest hurts at the thought of Anton knowing. He shakes his head, looks down to see Patty blinking sleepily at him. She rests her head on his thigh and drifts off again. Anton's hand tightens for a fraction of a second as he leans in to kiss Tuukka's forehead before pulling away completely and leaving to give him his privacy.

 

The World Cup is, as predicted, a disaster. He watches the clip of Tyler limping off the ice during the second Canada-USA game and knows immediately it's his knee.

> >> Are you okay, Ty?
> 
> << knee. day to day
> 
> << going home 2 dallas

Tuukka replays the clip. He notices Patrice's panicked expression on the bench. Sid's hand on Patrice, his lips moving as if to say _calm down_.

> >> Shit. I'm so sorry
> 
> << me 2. was looking forward to seeing u & the other guys [frowny face emoji]
> 
> >> I'll hug Z and Seids for you
> 
> << no need. big man called while i was getting checked out
> 
> << called b4 jamie lol

He snorts at the thought of Tyler sitting on the exam table and trying to calm down a very worried Slovak who, even after all this time, still views Tyler as one of his own.

> >> That sounds like Z. I'll hug them for you anyway
> 
> << [multiple heart emojis]
> 
> << marchys rly sorry for what he said btw

Tuukka fidgets with his phone as he tries to think of what to say. It buzzes in his hand and he drops it onto his bed.

> << he said ur his fav finn ever & pls don't hate him [crying emoji]
> 
> >> You and he both know I couldn't hate him. he's my best friend
> 
> << still. u should hug him when u see him
> 
> >> OK
> 
> << sorry ur
> 
> << **sorry ur stuck w rinne btw btw. kari's x100000000 nicer
> 
> >> Thanks. Kari is x100000 nicer.
> 
> << sisters calling. talk to u later tuux [kiss emoji]

Tuukka stares at the dozen kissy face emojis and lays his head back down on his pillow. It's been barely a week and a half since he left Boston, and the aching in his chest has already come back in full force. He stares at his phone screen, flipping through his apps for a few moments before his thumb is hovering over the dial button and Anton's number is written across the screen. He tosses his phone onto the other pillow and tries to sleep.

He watches from the bench as Quick shuts Finland out in the next game.

Pekka strips off his gear hastily, while Tuukka is careful and quiet next to him. He can feel Laine watching, catches Aho's curious look. Lauri just gives him a sympathetic smile, waggles his phone subtly to tell Tuukka he can text if he needs. It's not as if most of the Sochi team didn't know his history, but the young kids haven't learned about it yet, and Tuukka hopes to keep it that way.

After the opening ceremony in Toronto, Tuukka lets Lauri, Leo, and Jori hassle him into going to the after-party. The rookies have wide eyes and are eyeing the bar as soon as they arrive. Koivu tries to use his captain voice on them, but it gets lost in the din of the room. Tuukka settles for sticking next to Lauri for a while as Leo and Jori go dancing. He asks softly about Anton, and Tuukka drinks his beer quickly to avoid replying.

"He came back to Boston to be your backup, Tuukka. You don't think that means something?"

"Maybe he liked the city. We have great Italian food, yknow."

Lauri looks at Tuukka in disbelief. Tuukka suddenly spots Zdeno across the room. He knows Lauri will interrogate the truth out of him sooner or later, he's one of the few non-Bruins who can, but for now, Tuukka bails. He winds his way through the room to where Zdeno is chatting with a few of the European players. He gently elbows his way past Josi happily smooshed between some Czechs and wiggles around Kopitar and that young German boy dancing closely with beers in hand. He gets to Zdeno and calls out to him above the noise. Zdeno turns, and another turns with him.

"Tuukka," Zdeno says something in Slovak, then he tries in Russian. Hossa, who Zdeno is latched onto, laughs and tells him to speak in English. Zdeno giggles like Hossa told him a joke, and Tuukka catches sight of a table crowded with empty glasses behind them. "Dearest Tuukka, how are you? I miss you over summer."

"I'm great. I missed you too, Z. Do you—"

Zdeno cheers suddenly, swaying into Hossa's grip. The two Slovaks laugh some more.

"Ah! He miss me too. How good, I love Boston, you know."

"Yes, Z, I know." Tuukka tries not to stare as Zdeno dips to kiss Hossa's temple, mumbling something against his hair. He clears his throat, "Now, do you know where Marchy is?"

"Marchy? Marchy... Marchy is..." Zdeno squints above the crowd. For as tall as he is, it should be easy, but Brad was a short subject to find. "Bergy is there. Yes, with Canada. With, um," Zdeno gets distracted touching Hossa again, and it takes all of Tuukka's patience not to scream. He waves his free hand that isn't creeping down Hossa's hips. "With Sidney and Canada, you know."

Tuukka high-tails it to the other end of the bar.

He finds Patrice, but he does not find Brad. He does, however, find a lot of people he really hates on the ice. A lot of people he hates on-ice who are all touching each other somehow.

Crosby has his hand on Patrice's upper thigh. Giroux has his mouth on Crosby's neck. Malkin has his arms around Giroux and Ovechkin both. Ovechkin was most definitely just kissing Backstrom who, Tuukka swears, is sitting on Lundqvist's lap. Patrice looks at him, scandalized, and Tuukka holds his hands up,

"I don't wanna know. I just need to talk to Marchy."

Patrice looks around. Lundqvist waves a slender hand towards the bar area before curling it back around Backstrom's waist.

"Find him with Burns and Braden." He says coolly, and Tuukka mutters a quick _thanks, Hank_ before zig-zagging his way there. There, finally, he finds Brad. His face lights up when he sees Tuukka, and he greets Tuukka with a wet kiss on his cheek.

"We're gonna make a boy band," Brad announces before Tuukka can speak.

"What."

"Get this, babe. It's Brad, Brent, and Braden. We're gonna be BRRR."

Tuukka looks to Holtby for clarification, but gets none as he's double over clutching his sides.

"We were gonna be BRBRBR but that was a mouthful and sounded weird. So we're BRRR. Get it? Because we're Canadian, but also our names—"

"Yes, Brad. Marchy. Bradley," Tuukka swears, "Fuck, yes, I get it. Listen, can I talk to you real quick?"

It takes half a second for Brad to sober up after Tuukka says this. He sets his martini on the counter and pats Burns on the shoulder before tugging Tuukka to the relatively quiet section of the club near the bathrooms. He's wiggling his shoulders like he does when he wants to focus before a game, and his eyes sharpen as he asks Tuukka what's wrong.

"Do we need to kill Rinne? Say the word, we're there. Me, Patrice, Z, Pasta. We'll do it, man. Whole team will fly into Toronto specifically to murder him, I swear—"

"No! No, no, no, no. No." Tuukka puts his hands on Brad's shoulders, and Brad shuts up in an instant. His face is full of worry, genuine worry, and it makes Tuukka glad to be his friend. "I just … I wanted to apologize for snapping at you."

Brad's eyebrows pinch together.

"When?"

"At my place, during dinner. I shouldn't have said that about you and Team Canada, sorry."

"Oh," Brad exhales after a moment. He take Tuukka's hands off his shoulders and squeezes them in his own as he smiles weakly, " _I'm_ sorry, Tuukks. That was a douche move, I shouldn't have joked about that. Patrice and Dobby both bitched me out about it, and I don't even think Dobby knew why," Brad laughs softly and adds, "He just wanted to defend your honor or happiness or whatever, yknow."

Tuukka lets himself relax for a moment, hands unclenching in Brad's gentle grip. Brad tells him what Tyler said, he's his favorite Finn. Tuukka replies that he's his favorite Nova Scotian.

"Oh, phew. Good, I wouldn't want to fight Sid or Nate for your love." His joke gets Tuukka to let out a half-laugh, and after a tight hug, Brad drags them out to the dance floor.

 

He watches from the bench as Pekka gives up four goals to the young guns. His eyes follow Matthews the most. He thinks about the Leafs and their other possible star before watching McDavid for a while. He pops a bubble with his gum as Gaudreau scores. Two-zero. He remembers Looch's interview when he signed in Edmonton, saying he did it to be with McDavid. His eyes were shining when he said that.

Drouin makes it three-nil.

Tuukka chews his gum, mulls what Lauri said.

_You don't think that means something?_

He pulls his hat down low as MacKinnon drives the net and focuses on the sound of the goal horn. Four-nothing, them.

 

Coach tells him he'll start against Sweden. He keeps his words about Pekka to himself and tells coach he'll be ready.

 

Lundqvist gets a shutout, and Pekka scowls at him from the bench the entire time. They're mathematically eliminated from contention.

Pekka curses under his breath as they strip out of their gear afterwards.

Tuukka is in net against Russia, but it's a pointless game. His migraine ramps up with each passing moment and he lets in three goals before having to shove Pekka aside as he climbs over the boards for an extra attacker late in the third. Pekka swears at him once before Maatta and Lindell look at them and then there's only silence between them in the middle of the roaring arena.

"You didn't even try." Pekka spits as soon as they're in the locker room. The doors aren't even shut when Tuukka whips around to glare at him,

"What the fuck is your problem?"

"My problem? You were absolute shit tonight!" Tuukka cringes at the sound of Pekka throwing his helmet down in his stall. He shoves his glove and blocker into his duffel forcefully and glares at Pekka,

"It's not about that, is it?"

Lauri looks over at him warily. Koivu stops stripping his gear.

Tuukka lowers his voice to a near whisper. Each Finnish word is heavy and wrong on his tongue, and Tuukka hates how all of this has distorted what _home_ is supposed to feel like.

"It was over three years ago, Pekka."

"It doesn't change a thing, Tuukka. You're a lying piece of _shit_."

Tuukka bites his lower lip, feeling the chapped skin crack. He looks down at his pads and starts to tug at the lacing, tossing them onto the bench without responding. He feels a shove at his shoulder and the force of it throws him off balance. He stumbles, his hand flying out to the side to catch himself on the stall.

"Don't drag this back up," Tuukka says through gritted teeth. "It's in the past. I apologized."

" _You cheated on me with your fucking backup, you whore!_ " Pekka yells, and the entire room freezes around them. His head is pounding. Somebody drops their helmet. Probably one of the young guys who hasn't been around long enough to know. Tuukka stands as still as he can, and decides _fuck this_.

“Y’know, I’ve been called worse things by better people,” He spits out. Pekka raises his hand sharply,

"You fucking—"

 

The coaching staff enters the room as Koivu and Lehtera are dragging Pekka away from Tuukka. Sami's got an arm around Tuukka holding him back, and Lauri and Jussi are a wall between the two goaltenders. Tuukka's cheek stings and threatens to bruise. There's a lot of yelling, and the room is too, too bright 

 

> " **Disappointing Finnish at the World Cup of Hockey** " — September  23rd, 2016
> 
> _"The World Cup of Hockey has come to an end for Team Finland. The Finns finished last in Group B and for that matter last in the entire tournament. The performance by Finland was surprising, but the flaws on the roster were too much to overcome. The management team put a lot of hope on a young roster that didn’t seem ready._
> 
> _The Finns only registered one goal in their three round-robin games. They were shut out in their final two games against Sweden and Russia showing no offensive firepower. ..."_

 

It's ten in the morning when he lands in Boston.

The airport is crowded full of people, but it's white noise for Tuukka as he walks through the gates. He wears his headphones in hopes that no one will bother him, but no music is playing. He piles his gear onto a cart from the luggage belt, and it all seems heavier than he remembers. Mindlessly, he makes his way to arrivals and thinks about getting a cab home. Home, home, _home_ —

"Tuukka!" He hears someone calling his name, and he ducks his head to avoid their attention. They call his name again, in a sing-songy, almost soft voice, and it's nearer this time. Tuukka looks up, irritated.

"Anto—" The name dies on his tongue as Anton throws his arms around Tuukka's chest and hugs him tight, nearly lifting him off the ground. Tuukka grunts, but when Anton's grip loosens, Tuukka circles his arms around his shoulders without much hesitation. Anton sways a bit, chattering _hello, welcome home, I missed you_ , and Tuukka sinks into the feeling of being held. He pulls away after a moment, suddenly hyper-aware of how many people could be watching. He must have a strange look on his face, because Anton smiles and says, 

"Because we didn't hug last time."

Tuukka turns off the radio and leans his seat back as Anton drives them home. He doesn't sleep, but he pulls his black and gold cap down low and closes his eyes to let the city sounds wash over him. Tuukka feels the car climbing the ramps of their apartment's parking garage. One, two, three, four. Anton parks the car and touches Tuukka's shoulder to wake him. They unload the car in silence, and Anton takes the heaviest bags for himself.

"Oh," Tuukka says as he walks into the apartment and sees Patty Cakes wearing a little blue ribbon to greet him. There's a little note attached that says _welcome home,_ and as Tuukka lifts her up into his arms, he can see where she's gnawed off an entire corner in annoyance.

Anton shrugs a sheepish little shrug when Tuukka looks at him, and he feels a quiet warmth blooming in his chest.

He holds Patty against his chest, scratching under her chin and smiling weakly at her as Anton goes about the house putting things here and there and everywhere. Looking around, Tuukka notices Anton switched out the dark red curtains for the deep blue that Tuukka has initially wanted. There's a new bookshelf with new things that Tuukka and Patty observe carefully. He looks at the smiling faces of the Russian national team from the 2014 World Championships; Anton has his arms around Geno and another former Metallurg teammate while Ovechkin tries his best to photobomb. A picture of the 2011 Bruins, a silly picture of Anton with the Providence d-core. A photo of Tim, Tuukka, and Anton with the Cup.

"Dinner's ready." Tuukka turns his head to the kitchen where Anton is standing over a pot, and that's when Tuukka realizes the absolutely delicious smell that's overtaken the apartment. He wanders over, setting Patty down on the couch who meows in complaint.

"We get chicken wings tomorrow, but tonight, I made pelmeni." Anton lifts the lid of the pot, and Tuukka fights back the urge to groan. It looks _amazing_. He can't remember the last time he ate this, but he's sure it was with Anton years ago.

"It's perfect, thank you."

 

Patty curls up in the sock basket as Tuukka and Anton fold their laundry on the couch the next morning. He comments on how she's gotten a little plumper since he left, and Anton quickly changes the subject to what nice quality Tuukka's Team Finland sweater is. He looks at the sweater in Anton's hands and makes a vaguely affirmative noise as he goes back to folding his jeans. Anton stops, and the longer he goes without moving, the heavier his gaze feels.

"What is it?" Tuukka mutters through his teeth, uncomfortable with being stared at for so long.

"Are you okay? You seem very … miserable." He runs his hand over the Finnish logo, touching the lion's mane carefully. "If you would like to talk, I—"

He pauses when Tuukka visibly clenches his jaw.

"I want you to be okay. If I can help, I would like to."

Tuukka doesn't respond for a while. He folds crisp lines into his dress shirts, slow. Deliberate. They get through half the laundry without any words when quietly Tuukka mumbles,

"Do you remember that joke Brad made? At dinner before we left?"

Anton nods.

"He wasn't … he wasn't really wrong. About the national team being … my exes."

Patty sleeps the entire time that Tuukka talks. He talks about being at World Juniors when he met Lauri. It was a good three years, but the distance made it that way. Lauri came to Hartford, Tuukka was in Providence. They became too paranoid to keep everything going, too focused on making it to the big leagues, but they've always stayed friends. He talks about Jussi and their summer fling, how he came to Savonlinna to be with Tuukka for a few weeks before they decided that it was only ever going to be a fling.

He talks about Milan and watches Anton's face turn quizzical. This was supposed to be about the Finns, but Tuukka mumbles something about exceptions, and Milan always was such for him. He left Tuukka for Andrew, and Tuukka never blamed him for that. Andrew was winsome and fun, and now there's the Edmonton boy that Milan's fallen for.

Valterri was immediately next, but he was a rebound and he knew it the entire time. Tuukka called out Milan's name one night and Val sat there the next day and listened to Tuukka seethe about how perfect Andrew is, how perfect he and Milan are.

He got over Milan in time. Probably because he saw how genuinely happy Andrew made him, and that was enough to mend Tuukka's heart. That, and Pekka came along.

"Patrice introduced us at the NHL Awards," He says.

 

"Tuukka, this is Pekka." Patrice had his hand in between Tuukka's shoulder blades. Shea Weber held two drinks, and one of them must not have been his. Patrice's cheeks were pink, and Shea had been smiling since he found Patrice on the red carpet. Tuukka knew Pekka already, knew of him, he supposed; there are only so many Finnish goaltenders in the league, after all. His gray tie matched his eyes handsomely, and Tuukka felt short standing there before him. He offered his hand anyway, and Pekka took it.

 

"It was good. He was good, we were good together."

 

"I love you," He told Pekka at the end of the summer in Finland. He's wearing a Predators' shirt despite the garish color scheme, and they just fucked in the middle of Tuukka's kitchen. His voice caught on the words, anxious. Unsure. Then Pekka whispered them back, kissed the hesitation out of Tuukka's mouth, and Tuukka was gone. He looped his arms around Pekka's neck and laughter bubbled up from his chest as Pekka lifted him up and led them to the couch.

 

"And then it just... wasn't good, for whatever reason, everything went wrong with us. He got injured, the Bruins went to the Cup finals."

 

"Hey, Peksi. It's me. … Again." Tuukka paced the hallways of TD Garden, phone pressed to his ear. Milan and Tyler jogged past him, and a moment later, Brad followed. It was nearly time to get geared up for the first game against the Hawks. Tuukka exhaled, "I know you said you needed time, but you haven't responded to my calls or texts for a month. I'm worried about you and your recovery," He hesitates. "Call me, please. I love you."

 

"And then we lost." Anton says, and he knows this part of the story. Fuck, he was there on the bench the whole time.

He was with the paramedics when Patrice had to leave in an ambulance. He was there when Z broke down in the locker room after he watched Toews lift the Cup instead of him.

Anton was _there._ He was there against the back of Tuukka's door, kissing Tuukka, tugging off his shirt, digging his hands into Tuukka's thin hips. He was there in the morning when Tuukka hurled his guts out and cried against the side of the bathtub, chest heaving as he begged Anton, _just go._

"And then we lost," Tuukka echoes. The laundry basket is empty, and the cat has wandered off to another room. Tuukka doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he clasps them together and looks down. "Pekka called me when I went home to Finland. He apologized for ignoring me, and I couldn't … I didn't tell him. He found out in November, and then every goddamn goalie in the league found out, because … you know. Gossip."

Tuukka remembers Jonathan fucking Quick calling him, asking him _is it true?_ And Tuukka snapped. It was a three hour flight to Nashville, an hour long screaming match in Pekka's living room that ended with Tuukka throwing his key to Pekka’s place down at the floor by his feet. He cried the entire cab ride to the airport and flew three hours back to Boston the same day.

He gets up suddenly and shoves one stack of clothes into Anton's arms and takes the other for himself. Anton follows him unquestioningly into the bedroom to sort clothes into the dresser.

It's easier to talk about Kari. Kari was easy in general. Easy to make laugh, easy to smile. He leaned into people for touch so easily, gave up his trust even easier. Tuukka kissed him one night in Sochi, and Niemi gagged as they parted and laughed and drank some more. Kari was too good for Tuukka in the end, too soft and kind, and Tuukka was too rough around the edges and had too many issues that he knew would dim Kari's smile. Tuukka claimed Dallas was just too far, and Kari said he understood. He still kisses Tuukka's cheek and calls him friend, and that's enough.

They find Patty Cake in the sock drawer as Tuukka is explaining about Hank chasing him away from Antti Raanta. Anton scoops her up into his arms and says she really must like socks, and that's the end of things.

 

They don't talk until they're making lunch, and Anton gingerly touches the bruise on Tuukka's cheek.

"Thank you for telling me, for trusting me. I'm sorry it happened this way."

Tuukka turns into the touch for just a second before he pulls away.

"You deserved to know."

 

> GROUP MESSAGE: [six bear emojis]
> 
> << GO CANADA!!
> 
> << marchy u shoulda been MVP
> 
> << [photo from 2011 of Brad shirtless holding six bottles of liquor]
> 
> << MVP of our hearts, baby
> 
> << LOVE YOU BIG Z [blue heart emoji, family emoji, sparkler emoji]
> 
> << U WERE BEAUTY UR GOAL WAS GRACE EUROPE KICKED USA IN THE FACE
> 
> << Hey, no USA trash talk
> 
> << [twenty Canadian flag emojis] 
> 
> << Thank you, David. Kopi, Jaro, and young Leon were our heroes though. [thumbs up emoji]
> 
> << well ur the only B on the team so ur OUR hero big man [muscle emoji] 
> 
> >> You were awesome Z. 
> 
> >> I guess congrats Bergy and Marchy. Patty misses you 
> 
> << omg did our lil patty cakes watch?!? [heart eyes emoji] 
> 
> >> [photo of a cat wearing a red collar sleeping on Anton's chest as they sit on the couch] 
> 
> << [heart emoji] 
> 
> << omg dobby [eye emoji] 
> 
> << [cat with heart eyes emoji] 
> 
> << PATTY MY LIL GIRL [crying emoji, heart emoji] 
> 
> << Thank you everyone for your congrats. I can't wait to play in black and gold though 
> 
> << ayyyyyy bergy yesssssssssss 
> 
> << [bear emoji, yellow heart emoji, bear, yellow heart, bear, yellow heart, bear] 
> 
> << Agreed. Glad to be home with the Boston family [thumbs up emoji] 

 

"Do you remember we talked of going boating?"

Tuukka slowly turns and peers over the back of the couch at Anton nursing two cups of coffee. He grunts and turns back over, pulling the soft fleece blanket closer. From where he is, he hears Anton make a frustrated little growl. He hears Anton pad over and feels the couch dip by his feet.

"Tuukka, you have been the most sad since Marchy took Patty back. It's not good, you know."

"Shut up." He yanks the blanket over his face, hoping Anton will just go away, which he knows he won't. Anton gently wiggles the blanket free from Tuukka's clutch and looks at him with worried eyes.

"You have watched same season of Hell's Kitchen three times."

"I relate to Chef Ramsay, okay? Go away, Dobby, god."

Anton does not go away. He, in fact, drags the blanket off of Tuukka and somehow drags him off the couch by his ankles. Tuukka yells something about injured reserve that Anton doesn't seem to hear until Tuukka yells mercy.

"Okay, okay, fuck, okay, we'll go boating. Okay?"

"Okay."

He forces Anton to drive, because he's still feeling grouchy and doesn't want to drive to the harbor and deal with parking. As they're loading the car with towels and their day-bags, Tuukka remarks that neither of them have a boat, but Anton shrugs and smiles as if that's the silliest problem to have on a day when they're going boating. Not even the stupidly perfect weather can cheer him up, and when they reach the docks with bags in hand, Tuukka stares at the boat for a full thirty seconds before saying,

"This is Looch's boat."

Anton keeps arranging their gear in the boat.

"Hm? No, is not."

Tuukka gives Anton a wild look, as if to say _I know who's fucking boat this is, I've been on it and it literally says Lepotica, it's Milan's fucking boat._

"Ohh. Yes, okay. Was Looch's. Is Krejci's now. Looch gave it to him, and I ask to borrow for today." He beckons Tuukka onto the boat with an outstretched hand that Tuukka takes and lets himself get helped onto the boat. Anton unties the ropes anchoring them to the marina. Curiosity burns at him to know how Anton got the keys.

"Told him I needed to get rid of body, told him also that I was new Bruins starter." Anton's tone is so easy and relaxed that the words don't register for a moment, and then he's kicking Anton's shin, making him laugh.

"You did not."

"Maybe, who knows?"

Tuukka kicks him again, as gently as the last time and Anton reaches out to pinch at Tuukka's bony sides.

"No, really, how?" Tuukka wheezes after a most arduous bout of tickling. Anton's pushed him back onto the vinyl seat and has a hand on either side of Tuukka's shoulders, bracketing him in. He feels small, and safe. Anton shrugs with the sun behind his back.

"I said you missed Patty and would not stop pouting and a day of boating would help." Tuukka feels his face heat up at the thought of Anton literally admitting his sadness to their teammates, but then he thinks about that Anton only did it with good intentions. He half-heartedly pinches Anton's side just once more before letting it go.

Tuukka twists in his seat and leans over the side of the boat to watch the wake as they sail along. He reaches out to graze his fingertips along the top of the water, and salt mists his hand. He smiles to himself and turns to flick Anton with water where he sits at the wheel. Anton laughs mirthfully, and Tuukka rests his head on top of his arms, sticking his tongue out when Anton glances back at him a moment later. He's glad for their sunglasses, so he can't see the surely adoring look in Anton's eyes.

The stretch of beach they find is perfect. The sand is soft between Tuukka's toes and when he stretches out, the sun is warm on his skin. He strips off his shirt and lays on his stomach on the huge beach towel they brought, closing his eyes to the sound of the sea lapping at the shore.

"I bring you to a beautiful island on a beautiful day and you take a nap?" Tuukka lifts his head barely and squints out at Anton wading waist-deep. He waves his hand as if to say _whatever_ and lays his head back down, smiling into the crook of his elbow.

> >> [selfie with his sunglasses on, arms outstretched with sand and a beach towel visible]
> 
> << babeeee u look so cuuute
> 
> << [fire emoji]
> 
> << are you having a good day? [sunshine emoji]
> 
> >> Yeah, the weather's really nice
> 
> >> How's Patty?
> 
> << she's an angel as always
> 
> << are u at the beach by urself?
> 
> >> No, with Anton
> 
> << OH [eye emoji]

He drifts off and doesn't hear the sound of Anton's footsteps. Wet hands touch his back causing him to jolt awake.

"Were you dreaming about Miss Patty?" Anton asks. Tuukka grumbles something between _shut up_ and _fuck off_ which comes out as _shut off_. Anton rubs at his shoulders and beckons him to come into the water with him.

His thoughts leave him in the water. 

He thinks only of his hands cutting through the waves, the pressure on his chest. _Breathe, breathe, breathe_. 

Everything falls away like it does on the ice. It's only him and the sea for so long that he forgets anything else exists. His curls plaster to his face as he breaks the surface of the water to come up for air, his eyes sting and the wind sings. Brine and tides and life. He inhales and looks back at the beach. 

Anton has his knees pulled up to his chest sitting in the shallows. The sun makes his hair appear lighter, and his whole face is soft as he gazes at Tuukka. Tuukka paddles back, but Anton wades back in the water before he gets there. 

"You look happy," Anton says easily. 

"I guess I needed this." He shrugs and pushes his hair back from his forehead. His face feels warm from the sun, and he heads for shore. "Thanks."

"You know—" Anton tugs on his wrist gently, tugs him back around. "There are plenty of cats to be adopted in Boston."

"Yeah? What're you saying? I become a cat dad like Marchy?" He laughs a bit and tries to tug his hand away without real effort. Anton shifts his hand from Tuukka's forearm to catch his elbow. 

"You would be a wonderful cat dad, Tuukka. I know it."

Tuukka tries to shrug Anton off again. His face is hot again, and he wants to go sit in the shade to cool off. He tells Anton to hush, but Anton insists.

"You miss Patty just as much as me, admit it." Tuukka accuses, pushing at Anton's shoulder with his free hand. Anton chuckles and confesses but immediately after launches them into another brief tickle fight. Tuukka yells as they tangle and tumble and fall into the water. Anton's groaning, and Tuukka quickly moves his knee off his stomach with a breathless apology.

"Is okay," Anton wheezes, and Tuukka feels his hands settle carefully above his knees on either side of Anton's waist. He swallows hard when he realizes he's sitting in Anton's lap, ass pressed to Anton's front, hands resting on his chest.

He looks at Anton expecting a startled expression, but his eyes are dark and he's biting his lip. He props himself up on his elbows, hands sliding up his thighs, bunching Tuukka's shorts up as he moves his hands higher. He squeezes Tuukka's thighs and then all of a sudden, he shifts to sit upright. Tuukka stutters a gasp and grasps at Anton's shoulders as their chests bump together and their noses brush. Anton's hands, fuck, his hands are firm on his hips, his fingertips digging in. Tuukka slides his hands closer to Anton's neck, thumb touching the silver of his necklace chain. His eyes flicker to the curve of Anton's lip as Anton cups his ass to bring him even closer. He leans in and hears the whisper of his name.

The next thing he realizes, his forehead hurts and the wave that apparently crashed into them is receding back into sea foam. Tuukka holds a hand to his head and swears. Anton's hands are gone. The whole moment is gone, and Tuukka is left with a sudden ache of shame in his chest as he clambers to stand upright and go back to the beach. His eyes prickle, and he refuses to turn around when Anton calls his name. He sits down on the towel and snatches his phone up. He sees a few messages from Brad but doesn't read them, instead scrubbing his hands over his face a few times.

Looking back at the beach, he sees Anton heading further into the water, his back turned away.

 

Tuukka throws himself into the season when it begins. He gets the win on opening night, and the Garden is alive around them. Quaider and Krug gang up for a double bear hug, and Pasta cheers about how much he loves Tuukka. Patrice bumps their helmets together and tells him _good job, Tuukks_ , and Brad slaps his ass. Anton, the last to approach Tuukka as always, makes a kissing noise as he bends Tuukka's head to tap the top of his head

Toronto shocks them, but they get points back against Winnipeg, then Jersey. Tuukka feels sore when they go home that night, but it's not a strange soreness in his opinion. Anton thinks differently, and then Tuukka is on his back on his bed with his ankle up on Anton's shoulder and Anton's hands kneading the muscles of his thigh.

"You need to see the trainer tomorrow. This not good, Tuukka." Tuukka lets out a strangled noise when Anton's fingers find the aching spot on the outside of his right thigh. He swears and curses, curses Anton and curses the world. He hadn't thought it was that bad, but—

"Fuck, oh my fucking god," Tuukka whines, hips jerking as he tries to escape Anton's merciless hands. None of his other backups ever did shit like this, so Tuukka otherwise had only known the trainer's clinical and precise touch. Anton digs in and rips a sob from Tuukka's throat. He knows he'll be out for at least a week. Fuck.

Anton's hands ease eventually, and Tuukka lapses into a silence punctuated only by soft moans and the occasional quiet, hiccup-like gasp. Through half-lidded eyes, Tuukka focuses on Anton's necklace dangling out of his shirt to distract him. He eventually lets Tuukka's leg drop down to the bed only to hitch his other ankle over his shoulder and set to work massaging the left leg as well. He closes his eyes to ignore the sight of Anton between his legs, his ankle up on Anton’s shoulder. He suddenly feels awkward and bare wearing only an ugly t-shirt and shorts. Anton’s hands move over his exposed skin, and Tuukka flushes a deep, deep red.

Anton turns him over at one point and Tuukka starts to protest in embarrassment, but then his hands are on his thigh, his hip, his calf, kneading and working him so well that Tuukka’s complaints fade into soft pliant moans again.

 

> **@NHLBruins:** 22 October 2016
> 
> "Khudobin gets the start w/ Rask day-to-day + McIntyre recalled, Spooner motivated & PP looking to produce."

 

His invitation for dinner had only been meant for Brad. He knew Patrice was likely coming over as well, because they were a package deal nowadays, and Tuukka was fine with that. David showing up was unexpected, but he brings wine and some cannoli for dessert, so Tuukka doesn't turn him away. Patrice and David open the wine so it has time to breathe while Brad looms over the stove watching the salmon cook.

Someone knocks on the door, and Tuukka looks at Brad.

"Who the hell else did you invite?"

Brad shrugs and plucks some spinach out of the salad as Patrice gets the door.

Kevan appears,

"We brought beer!"

Then Adam.

"And cheesecake!"

"I only have four fillets of salmon," Tuukka cries out as they all gather into the kitchen. It's not a small space by any means, but six hockey players take up room. Kevan rummages around in the fridge and finds the parcel of tuna from the shop. He almost speaks, but Tuukka shushes him and says no quickly. "Those are for dinner tomorrow. You will not eat those."

Brad insists he and Tuukka alone will finish dinner and waves everyone else out. Especially Patrice. He shoves a very full glass of wine in Patrice's hands,

"You burn water, baby. Just go be the nice wine mom and make sure Quaider and Killer don't destroy the house."

Making pasta enough for the six of them was going to be a challenge, but one perk of having Anton as a housemate is that he keeps the pantry impeccably stocked and well-organized. Brad destroys two boxes of penne pasta and cracks open a few cans of various tomato products to make a sauce.

"Reminds me of dinners in Providence." Brad smiles and knocks shoulders with Tuukka. Tuukka hums to himself and lets Brad feed him a piece of pasta to test its readiness.

Music drifts in from the living room quietly as they chatter and eat. The conversation winds its way around the table, and everyone's glasses are always full or a fresh beer is in their hands. Tuukka picks at the last bits of salmon that he and Brad split as Adam makes the others laugh til they're wheezing.

"It does remind me of Providence," Tuukka murmurs as he gently kicks at Brad's foot under the table. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he raises his wine glass. There were always team dinners on the road as well as team breakfasts and, hell, team lunches sometimes too. _Team_ was so ingrained in their bones, but _team_ and _friend_ weren't always directly correlated. Even then, Tuukka has plenty of friends that he wouldn't let waltz into his house and seat themselves at his dinner table. Looking at them all, he knows they're family—

"So what's Anton like in bed?" Kevan asks around his cannoli.

Somebody is choking on their dessert. Oh. It's him.

"Wh-what?" Tuukka coughs out as Brad helpfully whacks him on the back to dislodge the bite of cannoli that was stuck.

"He looks like he'd be really gentle," Adam muses thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but what if Tuukka wants it, like, yknow— _nngh!_ " Kevan makes a thrusting motion that Tuukka assumes means rough or hard and he feels his entire face heat up in an instant. The two defensemen start debating Tuukka's sexual preferences.

"I dunno, man, Looch and Ference took me home once when we were all really drunk, and Looch gave it to me. Like. Real good."

"Wait, what _was_ Ference like? The nice ones are always the nastiest—"

"He just watched and bossed us around. It was hot, like. Wow." He pauses, then smirks and looks over at Patrice who was trying his best not to be noticed during this particular conversation. "I bet Bergy knows more."

"Yeah, Bergy, you and Ference dated briefly. What's he like?"

"Oh. Um. He's nice—"

Tuukka shrieks a little bit.

"Oh. My god? Why the fuck are we talking about this at my dinner table?"

"We just want to know if he's good to you, Tuukks."

"Your happiness and sexual satisfaction is our utmost priority." Adam says solemnly which makes Kevan snort and choke on his beer. Good, Tuukka thinks.

"Guys, this really isn't appropriate." David warns. His voice is gentle but firm, like when he chides one of the younger players. It immediately makes the others shift in their seats and look down guiltily.

"We just think it's weird, that's all." Adam picks at the label on his beer. "You're private, but not secretive. So when Dobby moved in with you, we figured that was your way of … y'know. Coming out, I guess."

"You don't really have any of us over except obviously Marchy—" Kevan shoots a glance over to Brad who looks more than a little smug. However, David interrupts again and says it's time to clean up, and he hustles everyone into bringing their plates into the kitchen. Patrice takes Tuukka's plate for him, but before he can make it to the safety of the couch, Adam has an arm around him dragging him in for a hug. Tuukka grumbles, but then Adam's voice is soft in his ear.

"Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Tuukks. We all love you a lot and really do want you to be happy." He draws back, and Tuukka knows there's no faking the sincerity in his expression.

"We're not—" Tuukka starts, suddenly. He is private, he thinks, he is close to the chest. Part of it is because of the culture in which he was raised, but also the culture of hockey and how public they are as stars. These are his teammates, and hockey is his job. The cameras are always on them on the ice, and so often off it too. Every time he walks into the Garden, he's walking into work, and he's always been quite firm about where his line is drawn. But, he thinks, maybe it's time to shift the line. At least with these guys.

"I feel comfortable with him," Tuukka admits. "Safe, I guess."

Adam mulls this for a moment before nodding slowly and hugging him once more. He's glad for them, he says against Tuukka's hair, hand curling around the back of his neck.

"You deserve this."

 

"This is the _best!_ "

Pastrnak is still kicking off his sandals as he runs towards the water's edge alongside Vatrano and Czarnik. Krug stumbles to collect all the discarded clothing and rushes back to "Camp Bergeron" where everyone has tossed their belongings in the sand and strewn out their beach towels for Patrice to watch over. Carlo makes sure to thank Patrice for watching their stuff before he goes to join the splashing and screeching in the water.

"Aren't our young d-men the best?" Adam asks smugly as Patrice dutifully folds the various shirts and whatnots. "So polite to Bergy, so nice."

Tuukka hums in agreement as he reclines back on his elbows, peering out at the beach through his sunglasses.

"Indeed, unlike those ill-mannered forwards."

"Ruffians, they are. Scoundrels, really."

Tuukka doesn't react in time to stop Brad from slapping his stomach with a handful of sunscreen.

"Those are _my_ ruffian scoundrel sons, thank you." Tuukka scowls and quickly scoops up some of the sunscreen to smear on Brad's face in retaliation. Brad sputters when he gets some on his lips, but Adam and Patrice laugh.

"No wonder they're so naughty, if you're their dad."

Brad gets his trademark shit-eating grin, and Tuukka immediately regrets whatever is about to come.

"That's daddy to you, babe."

He gags, full-on heaves for dramatic effect and thankfully the others join in. Backes looks scandalized that they're all ribbing on Brad so badly, and he gently assures Brad he could be "daddy" if he wanted to be.

"Don't encourage him, please." Patrice says with a grimace, and the group breaks into laughter once more.

> >> Tell me why the mention of "daddy" makes me think of you [vomit emoji, poop emoji]
> 
> << Oh?
> 
> >> ew
> 
> << Darling, you're so well trained.
> 
> >> NOT one of your boys, Hank
> 
> << Why are you texting me? Isn't it Halloween in Florida?
> 
> << Go to the beach, live a little, Tuukka. Get a tan.
> 
> >> [selfie with his sunglasses on, middle finger taking up most of the photo frame, a blurred head trying to photobomb in the back]
> 
> << [photo of a sweaty post-practice Lundqvist with Staal draped around his shoulders, both smiling happily]
> 
> >> [garbage emoji]
> 
> << [heart emoji]

"You prefer Hank over us?" Tuukka looks up from his phone to see Anton settling down beside him. He almost asks how he knew it was Hank, but Anton answers him before he can, "You look like you smelled a rotten fish."

He nudges close to Tuukka, stealing the bottle of sunscreen from Brad who is very delicately covering Patrice's cheeks. Tuukka had already sort of covered his shoulders with the cream Brad slapped onto him, but Anton takes the time to get his back, his neck, his ears. Tuukka shudders when Anton thumbs the cream onto his ears gently, and Anton makes a joke about how cat-like the motion is.

"Don't say that, you'll make me miss Patty. Talk about anything else."

Anton chuckles and rubs Tuukka's shoulders gently. He feels Anton press his lips against the nape of his neck,

"You look good, you know.”

He can’t help the noise of disbelief that escapes him. Anton squeezes his shoulders a bit and murmurs low in his ear so no one else hears,

“It reminds me of our day on Lovells Island.”

Oh.

Tuukka exhales, and then Anton's hands leave him. He swallows thickly around his heart and looks over at Brad. He throws his bundled up shirt into his best friend’s face.

"Let's go swim, yeah?"

They tag team Backes, terrify Pastrnak, dunk Carlo twice, and steal Chiller’s shorts before the mischief is out of their systems. Chiller’s face is bright red and he's swearing up a storm as he ties his shorts back on tighter before fleeing to Camp Bergeron to rest. Tuukka settles for floating on his back, and it takes Brad a few attempts to find his balance too. Brad says something about otters as he laces his fingers with Tuukka's so they stay together as they float. It's easy. Even when other things are difficult, _this_. This is easy with Brad, and Tuukka feels his stress wash away with each ebb and flow of the sea rocking against them. He thinks he dozes off, but Brad calls his name softly.

"Mm?" Tuukka turns his head carefully to peer at Brad. His eyes are closed, but he's chewing his lip like he's fighting to hold something back. Tuukka squeezes his hand as if to insist.

"So what did, uh. What did Dobby say to you?"

Tuukka hesitates for a moment. The ocean is wide around them, and their silence is punctuated by the cry of gulls and distant laughter. He doesn't remember the last time he kept something from Brad. Doesn't think he would know how.

"He said I looked good."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

He feels Brad pull his hand away, and then the water shifts and Brad beckons him to swim back to shore. They drifted quite far out, but they swim at a lazy pace and simply enjoy the day.

"You do, you know. Look good," Brad remarks as Tuukka is trying to squeeze out some of the water from his curls as they stand ankle-deep in the shallows. He looks back at where Patrice has his book open on his lap, and Anton is gesturing with his hands as they talk.

"Thanks," He says and flicks his eyes at Brad's own ghastly patterned shorts. "Can't say the same to you, bud."

"Hey!" Brad cries out as Tuukka ambles back to camp. He refuses to listen to the importance of festivity and how the jack-o-lantern print _allegedly_ makes his butt look great.

 

> " **Bruins win 10-round shootout against Lightning** " — November 4th, 2016
> 
> " ** _TAMPA_** _—_ Jimmy Hayes scored in the 10th round of the shootout to give the Boston Bruins a 4-3 win against the Tampa Bay Lightning at Amalie Arena on Thursday. Brandon Carlo, Ryan Spooner, David Pastrnak scored for Boston (6-4-0). Tuukka Rask made 27 saves.
> 
> _Hayes, who hasn't scored a point in the first 10 games, beat Lightning goalie Andrei Vasilevskiy high over his left shoulder in the shootout._ "

 

He showers Nash and Hayes with praise and the entire team smothers him with affection in return. He makes sure to congratulate Carlo once the cameras have fled the room, bumping their foreheads together and telling the young defenseman _good job_. Zdeno is beaming with pride at the entire room and his partner especially so.

“You were spectacular,” Zdeno says adoringly as he runs his hand through Tuukka’s hair.

“Carlo really got the team going.” He watches David and Patrice pat the rookie on the back. All the attention leaves him flushed and smiling as he heads to the showers.

Having finally combed his curls down, Tuukka bats away Kevan and Colin’s dual attempt to ruffle his hair again as he wanders outside of the locker room looking for Anton. The low murmurs of Russian and rumble of Anton’s laugh guides him to where he finds Anton talking with a weary Vasilevskiy. Andrei regards him politely,

“Good game, you play very well.”

“You too,” Tuukka replies honestly. “You’re incredible to watch.”

He sees Andrei crack a smile under all his exhaustion, and then out of nowhere,

“Ithn’t he?”

“Bish,” Tuukka barely blinks before he’s being enveloped by Ben’s arms. He muffles _hello_ against his suit jacket before Ben pulls away, smiling with a huge gap in his teeth. Tuukka cringes and motions to Ben's mouth. "You, uh. You good?"

"Oh yeah. It'th fine," Ben laughs, charming as ever despite the lack of teeth. Tuukka tells him so,

"How are you still handsome without your front teeth? Annoying bastard." Ben just smiles wider in response to this and he reaches to grab Tuukka's hand.

"Wanna feel?"

"No—" Tuukka tries to yank his hand away, but not before Ben sticks his forefinger against his warm mushy gums. A guttural noise is ripped from his throat giving way to a scream, and Ben is laughing again as Tuukka wipes his hand on Ben's game day suit. He swears something fierce and smacks Ben's chest repeatedly.

"So fucking gross, holy shit, fucking—"

"Tuukka, Dobby!" Zdeno calls from down the hall. "Bus in five."

Tuukka jabs a finger into Ben's tie and calls him gross again before Anton's snort of amusement breaks his rage. They look at their respective Russians; Anton is, well, amused, but Andrei looks horrified. Anton shrugs and says something in their mother tongue that gets Andrei to make a slightly less horrified, slightly more humorous expression. Ben tells him congrats on the win, threatens to kick Tuukka's ass next time they play, and saunters back down the hall to his own locker room. Andrei hugs Anton and gives Tuukka a stiff nod before following suit.

"You like his no teeth?" Anton asks as they make their way to the bus, hand low on Tuukka's back. He doesn't rush to get away from Anton's touch, in fact, he slows and lets Anton curl his hand tighter, drawing him close.

"I like my men _with_ their teeth, thank you." Tuukka glances back with a smirk as he ascends the steps; Anton's eyes never stray from him, and his full-toothed smile is all Tuukka sees.

 

They have an agreement that whoever starts gets to choose their pre-game music. Tuukka gets the nod tonight against Buffalo, and Anton forks over one half of his ridiculously long headphones to Tuukka. They settle into their stretching routine in a quiet room. Patrice silently occupies the other side; he and Zdeno are the only two who dare to share the room with Tuukka when he's in net for the night. They don't flood the space with nervous energy like the younger guys do, in fact, their presences are comfortable after all these years.

He and Anton press their feet together and link hands over their toes. Anton tugs him gently forward for a long moment, then Tuukka tugs him back, feeling the stretch in their lower backs as they switch positions over time. Anton carefully pushes on his shoulders as Tuukka sits in the splits. Closing his eyes, he breathes in and out and sinks further into the stretch. Anton adjusts. His hands move to the inside of Tuukka's thighs, starting at the top of his knees and squeezing the muscle there, rubbing circles to loosen the tension as he moves higher on Tuukka's thigh. He uncoils under Anton's hands, exhales and lets the touches wash over him like the music playing in his ear. Eventually, Anton slows to a stop after working Tuukka all over, and Tuukka feels boneless and good. He barely realizes that Patrice is long gone and just allows Anton to guide him back to the locker room where Tuukka mindlessly suits up and focuses on the comfortable feeling his body possesses in that moment of time.

"You ready to beat Buffalo?" David asks, knocking his knee with Tuukka's pad. Tuukka hums in response and observes the room buzzing around them.

"I know I can beat Lehner. I feel good tonight." David raises his eyebrows at this; he's not shocked by Tuukka's confidence, if anything he's shocked by Tuukka's calm. But he feels centered. He really feels _good_.

"Are you thinking … shutout, maybe?"

Across the room, Brad’s head whips around. Tuukka shrugs.

“Yeah, I can shut them out.” In a heartbeat, Brad’s on his feet, Adam too.

“Tuukka said it! He said shutout! You know what that means!”

“You guys—“ Tuukka starts, but the fondness in his voice outweighs the slight burn of embarrassment. He knows what’s about to happen, but it was a tradition started two years ago when Anton was still in Raleigh, so he looks around for an explanation.

“It’s …” Tuukka sighs. Adam interrupts by planting a loud kiss on his cheek,

“Shutout smooches!" Adam laughs, "They’re for luck, not that Tuukks needs it, really.”

David is next. He leans over and gently presses a kiss to Tuukka’s cheek. He’s grinning as he gets up and makes way for the other vets who come give their obligatory good luck kisses. Brad touches their noses together, smiling, Patrice kisses his temple. Pasta giggles as he pecks Tuukka on the cheek, and Krug looks a bit pink as he does the same. Backes, for his part, takes everything in stride and even cups Tuukka’s face as he kisses his forehead. Zdeno nudges Carlo forward, but Tuukka catches him murmuring that Carlo doesn’t have to do anything he is uncomfortable with. Carlo shakes his head and leans to brush his lips softly against Tuukka’s cheek. Zdeno kisses the top of his head, of course, and Tuukka closes his eyes for a moment to memorize the confident energy swirling around the locker room. Stifled laughter from the fourth line, the scuffle of Chiller and Killer in the corner, the slide of pads as the team gears up, someone fixing their stick tape.

“You’ll be great, as always,” Zdeno murmurs against his hair, and Tuukka looks up at him, sees the confidence reflected in his eyes that they feel in their team.

Zdeno is always last before his backup. Tuukka isn’t about to _take_ a kiss from Anton in this way, by making him do it out of _obligation_ of all things. It’s just a silly tradition, after all—

“Tuukka,” Anton calls warmly, catching Tuukka’s chin and tilting his face this way. Tuukka gets a flash of a smirk before Anton presses his lips to Tuukka’s, and that. That’s not typically part of the tradition. His body sighs into it though. He exhales a resistance he had been holding onto for longer than he consciously knew. He wants to keep going, wants to hold onto Anton and the feeling of how perfect Anton’s lips fit against his. But Anton pulls back. And Tuukka has a game to play.

Not a single shot gets past him, and after coach says some words and the media floods the room for a bit, Anton sneaks Tuukka somewhere private. A supply closet, specifically, and Tuukka blanches at the cliche that his life has become. Making out in a supply closet. Jesus.

He doesn't dwell on it for long; he winds his arms around Anton's shoulders as Anton cups his ass with both hands. They stumble back until Tuukka's shoulders hit the back wall. Tuukka shifts and spreads his legs so Anton can slot a thigh between his own. He groans when Anton presses his knee closer, closes his mouth over the pulse point on Tuukka's neck.

"Anton, _please_ ," He gasps when gentle kisses turns to teeth and Anton begins to bite marks along his skin. He tugs Anton's head back up and crushes their mouths together desperately. Anton doesn't hold back, doesn't draw away from Tuukka or tease him; he presses flush against Tuukka and deepens the kiss quickly. Just like when Anton touched him earlier, Tuukka goes boneless in his arms. He catches bits and pieces of the praises that Anton whispers in between kisses and each word makes Tuukka's blood boil. _Gorgeous, perfect, amazing_.

He moans when Anton slides one hand past the waistband of Tuukka's shorts to palm his ass. His moans turn into whines when he feels how hard Anton is and tries to cant his hips up more and more. Teeth find his neck once more, and Anton’s free hand winds itself almost too tightly in Tuukka’s hair. He swears, just a few more moments of this, and he’ll—

“Tuuuuukka? Tuukksie Pooksie? Uh, dude, where are you? We’re going out to drink—“

Tuukka rips open the supply closet door to see Beleskey and Nash wandering the hall together. Their eyes go wide as saucers and only Anton’s quick hands around his waist stop him from actually murdering the two wingers.

“We be there soon, bye!” Anton blurts out as he yanks Tuukka back into the closet and shuts the door. They hear the two burst into shrieks of laughter and then the hurried sound of their footsteps fading away. Needless to say, Tuukka doesn’t feel very hot and bothered anymore. Mostly just bothered.

 

They face Montreal the next day, and Tuukka's stomach feels ill the entire time they get ready to play. Anton has the nod tonight, but everything in the arena feels off. The Bell Centre is never kind to them, but they never ask it to be. Tuukka sits at the red line and goes through the motions of his pre-game stretch. Someone kneels down next to him on the Habs' side to stretch as well.

"Hey, Tuukka," Shea says amicably enough. Tuukka grunts out a hello in response and wishes it had been left at that. Shea's skates dig into the ice oddly, catching Tuukka's stare.

"Pekka wants to talk to you."

His lip twitches at the sound of that name.

He sits up straight and ignores that Shea ever spoke.

"Did you hear me?" Shea says, voice firm as he taps his stick on the ice in front of Tuukka. The arena feels off. It's never kind.

"Excuse me." Tuukka stands with a dismissive word and starts to skate back towards the net to take over for Anton when Shea's stick catches him around the midsection. He grabs the stick in a sudden flash of anger and turns around to look Shea dead in the eyes as he breaks it over his thigh. The noise cracks through the air like sharp thunder.

There's a crowd around them in a heartbeat. Brad snows Shea's lower half as he comes to a harsh stop between them. He feels Zdeno looming behind him, and three of the defensemen appear at the red line at the same time that Galchenyuk and that former Hawks' goon appear behind Shea.

"Now he wants to talk? After what he did at the World Cup? _Now_ he's got a guilty conscious?"

"You turned the whole national team on him," Shea accuses. Brad steps in front of Tuukka protectively, and Zdeno rests a hand on Tuukka's shoulder, ready to move him out of the way if a fight breaks out.

"What's going on?" Pacioretty says loudly as he turns up to the scene, but Brad is quick to speak before Tuukka can. His normally jovial tone is nowhere to be found, and his words are as harsh as the cold ice beneath them.

"Your man was just leaving our goalie alone, right?"

The Habs look to him for an answer, but Shea has only a deep scowl and a deeper-seated dislike of Tuukka for reasons beyond the Habs' understanding. Tuukka sees Carey skating closer to investigate the crowd, and he knows the camera crews and TV announcers must be having a fit about this mess.

"Right, Shea?" Galchenyuk jostles Shea's shoulder gently and it seems to break him out of his anger for long enough to make him leave without a word. He and the center skate back to the far end of the bench to talk to the equipment manager about the matter of a new stick. Zdeno takes the two halves from Tuukka's hands and gives them to Pacioretty with only a _little_ more aggression than necessary.

Anyone who didn't know would think it's just the typical Boston-Montreal rivalry, and they're all happy to let them think that.

Brad presses Tuukka against the bench for a moment and asks him what Shea said. Tuukka tells him honestly, and luckily Zdeno is still looming near to body block Brad from skating to the Habs' side to jump him.

"Go take shots on net," Zdeno orders Brad and the others lingering near. They clear out, and Tuukka is left leaning on the boards hiding his grimace under his mask. Zdeno exhales quietly.

"Marchy started a fight in the Team Canada locker room when he heard, you know."

"Heard what?"

"About Rinne hitting you." Tuukka feels the fight leave him then. Of course everyone found out. Nothing's private in this league.

He watches Brad snipe a shot past Anton in net before Anton takes a break to come to the bench for relief. He remembers the touch of Anton's hand on the bruise that strayed for days. Zdeno glances at Anton approaching.

"He cursed Weber out, and Holtby and Burns had to get him out of the room."

Zdeno taps him on the helmet gently and cocks his head to the side,

"We all love you, you know. We would do anything for you."

Tuukka sighs,

"I know."

Anton has better sense than to ask what happened between him and Shea, but he asks if Tuukka is alright, and it's mostly the truth when he says _yes_.

Shea scores first, because karma is a bitch.

He must have wanted to stick it to Tuukka particularly hard seeing how he glares at Tuukka when he skates by the Bruins' bench post-celly. Tuukka grinds his teeth for half the game and spends the other half thinking about Pekka and what happened at the World Cup. He told himself he was over it. Completely over it. He was upset for a few days, but then he told Anton the truth, and the bruise faded, and he got _over_ it. He refuses to spend another year feeling shitty about his life choices. He apologized dozens upon dozens of times, but Pekka never heard a word. And that’s fine. _Tuukka_ was fine. However, Shea just had to come and shove his way into their business.  

And Tuukka gets it. He does. He watches the skaters flying past on the ice, and he knows that Shea is to Pekka as Brad is to Tuukka, so he understands Shea’s ferocious defense. But Tuukka was _over_ what happened with Pekka. At least, mostly.

He told Pekka during the World Cup that he was tired. Tired of the pettiness and the drama and the hate.  

 _Aren't you tired?_ He asked, only to hear silence in return. He was over it and honestly just wanted to move on, but then Pekka snapped and Shea snagged him around the waist with his stick and—

Byron scores with a minute left in the third.  

Tuukka swears, and the game is done.

"I'm sorry," are the first words out of Anton's mouth when the media is gone and Tuukka is bent over packing up his gear. A loss to Montreal is always tough to swallow, but the arena was off, and Tuukka doesn't blame Anton one bit. He straightens suddenly and sees how troubled Anton is. He fidgets with his necklace as he looks down at the floor in shame.

" _Hey_ , hey, no, don't apologize." Tuukka reaches to put a hand in Anton's head, combing his fingers through the short, dirty blond hair to soothe him. "It's one game, Anton. Just one game."

Anton's voice is weak when he confesses,

"Wanted to win it for you," He murmurs, contrite. Tuukka steps closer then, steps between Anton's open legs and unthinkingly pulls his head to settle on his stomach as Tuukka curls inward, guarding him from the watchful eyes of their downtrodden team. Arms encircle his hips as Anton pulls him closer, burying himself in the safety of Tuukka's embrace.

 _We'd do anything for you_ , Zdeno promised. He wonders, faintly, what Anton would do for him too. A part of him already knows what great lengths he would go to for Anton, and the thought scares him to realize just what that means.

 

> **"Rask and Weber nearly come to blows during pre-game warmups"**
> 
> _12,890 views_
> 
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> 
> **SPORTSNETCANADA**
> 
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> 
> _Published on November 8, 2016_

 

After the debacle in Montreal, Tuukka notices their teammates watching, staring.

Tuukka hums along to Anton’s weird Russian synth-pop the next time he starts and catches Morrow gossiping to the Millers.

Czarnik walks past them on the plane and audibly gasps at Anton’s head tucked into Tuukka’s shoulder as he sleeps.

In the frigid cold of Denver, Tuukka wraps his scarf around Anton’s wind-bitten face and hears Backes _awwh_ at them.

The morning after Carlo and Quaider gawk at Tuukka warning Anton not to eat something because it has coconut and _"he's allergic, duh,_ " everything comes to a head and Tuukka snaps.

He hasn’t had a full-blown migraine since the World Cup, but the lights at Warrior Ice Arena begin to blare too soon. He squints to see everyone and finds himself yelling at anyone for tiniest little thing. Even Zdeno is not immune to his wrath. He sees Anton leaning over the boards to talk with a trainer during a break, and he swears Anton better not be feeling injured or sick. If his migraine gets any worse, he might not be able to start against the Wild and Anton will need to play.

Anton skates up to him leisurely without his gloves or mask on and a Coca-Cola in hand.

“Mask off,” He instructs as he comes to a stop inches away. Tuukka glares for only a moment before shucking his mask off and setting it on top of his net.

“What?” Tuukka grouches.

“So cranky. You have little migraine, you need to take your medicine before it is big migraine.” Anton opens his palm to show the pills in his hand. Tuukka blinks at him once before his frustrations start to fade. He sighs and lets Anton feed him the pills, popping open the soda for him and holding it to his lips for a drink. The caffeine usually helps the meds work quicker, and a bit of sugar never hurt either.

“Thanks,” He mumbles after the pills go down. Anton almost bumps their foreheads together but stops an inch away, careful not to actually jostle Tuukka when he’s already aching. Tuukka’s eyes break away from Anton for a second, and then all he can see is their team staring at them. His face gets hot. He tries not to let his migraines interfere with the game like this; hell, beyond Claude and the team doctor, he only ever talks about his migraines with Brad as his best friend and Zdeno as his captain. The rest of the team doesn’t honestly know how bad they get. Any amount of light is too bright, any sound too loud. He can't even move sometimes because every shift makes his head scream. Anton has had to bail him out though. He’s been between the pipes when Tuukka has been between the sheets begging his head to stop swimming and swirling with pain.

Anton steps back into his vision, tilting his head a bit to smile at Tuukka and say,

“I’ll practice with everyone while the meds kick in, okay?”

Tuukka nods mutely and turns back to his net as Anton skates away to discard the coke and wave Coach over to chat. The meds start to work sooner rather than later, and Tuukka is grateful that they caught it so early. Even another half hour might have made Tuukka nauseous and seeing spots. Practice closes out a few minutes early, another thing to be grateful for, and Tuukka has to wave Brad off when he comes circling in the locker room like Mother Hen. Pastrnak approaches him looking for advice as he’s tying his sneakers.

“Advice about what?” Tuukka asks. He can’t recall Pasta’s form being terrible during practice, and his point production lately was second best on the team behind Brad.

"It's about Torey, actually." Pasta glances at the defenseman sitting across the room checking his phone.

"Bergy might be a better person to ask if it's about you and Krug," Tuukka suggests; they had run tons of drills with special teams recently, but like Pasta, Krug had seemed fine during practice. If anyone knew about issues to fix with the first power play unit, it would be Patrice. Tuukka can only see so much from the crease, he can't feel the chemistry on the ice like the skaters themselves can. Pasta rubs the back of his neck.

"Bergy is so … cool. Can't ask him. And Chara is like dad, can't ask him."

Tuukka blinks.

"Chara's not on the first unit with you two though. Ask Bergy, you should know he's the best."

Now Pasta blinks.

"First unit … ? You— no, no, don't need hockey advice," He lowers his voice conspiratorially, "I need love advice."

"Why?" Tuukka raises his eyebrow at the fidgeting forward. Even if it wasn't for hockey advice, Patrice is still the person Tuukka would recommend for love advice. He and Brad are a strong couple, devoted and loving. He's got no one. Not even a cat anymore.

"Because, uh, you. You and Dobby, you know." Pasta makes a pitiful motion with his hands, as if begging Tuukka not to make him say anything more. Poor kid, he—

" _Wait_ , what? We're not, he, I— Pasta, no, Pasta. Pasta. We're— _no_ ." Tuukka rises to his feet, and Pasta stumbles back, realizing his mistake. He takes a small piece of comfort in seeing Pasta flush red to match his own hot blush. He blurts out an apology and flees before Tuukka can yell after him. Krug lifts his head from his phone and grabs both their bags, hollering at Pasta to wait.

 

> << Aww
> 
> << I feel bad for the kid
> 
> >> Wtf. Feel bad for me
> 
> << I do lol. But he must be so embarrassed
> 
> >> What do I do man
> 
> >> Lauri
> 
> >> L a u r i [eye roll emoji]
> 
> << Idk buddy. I'm going on five year anniversary of me, myself, and I. [laughing emoji] Want me to ask Kari?
> 
> >> No. He and Nemo are cute and I regret setting them up.
> 
> >> I'm just alone and feeling like a loser
> 
> << You don't have to be alone!!
> 
> << [boys holding hands emoji, sparkling heart]

 

They spend their off day lounging about the house doing nothing in particular. At least an hour passes by as they sit and look through the “catstagram” hashtag on Instagram as Deadliest Catch plays in the background. Tuukka hums softly each time he likes a certain photo, and Anton double taps the photo for them. He’s warm all over, blanketed in a feeling of security as Anton holds him. His pants have slipped down his hips slightly, leaving the jut of his hip exposed where Anton settles his hand. He curls into Anton’s side as they peruse the profile of Ilya’s little tabby cat.

Anton shifts his hand under Tuukka’s shirt, strokes his waist softly. Coyly trying to encourage him further, Tuukka wriggles closer still, nosing Anton’s neck and pressing a kiss to his jaw. He hears Anton utter a weak groan just before he dips his head to kiss Tuukka properly, hauling him in by his waist until Tuukka is seated firmly in his lap, legs on either side of his hips. Anton moves one hand further up Tuukka's shirt as the other settles on his ass. Tuukka lets Anton know he enjoys his hand placement with an eager, open-mouthed kiss. He moans when Anton squeezes his chest and thumbs over Tuukka's nipple. Anton's other hand digs into his ass, but then a ringing from Anton's phone interrupts them.

> _Zhenya [confetti emoji]_
> 
> [DECLINE]      **[ACCEPT]**

"Ey, Zhenya? Uhh—" Anton gets cut off by the press of Tuukka's lips and then the subsequent sound of Malkin chattering on about something in Russian. Anton hums as if to affirm what Malkin says and has to pull away from the kiss to blurt out an actual answer. He continues to rub at Tuukka's chest, making him shudders, but it doesn't get Anton to hang up. He nibbles at the spot below Anton's ear just near his jaw and makes Anton's breath hitch, gets him to stumble over a word before Anton starts to shift and move underneath him. He kisses Tuukka's lips chastely as an apology when he carefully ditches Tuukka onto the couch so he can stand.

Tuukka sits there. Staring at Anton wander into the kitchen.

He sits there. And then his phone buzzes.

> >> So the other day I was thinking about you
> 
> << gross [poop emoji]
> 
> >> **your relationship, and I wanted to help.
> 
> >> Wow. Rude.
> 
> << fuck off Hank [middle finger emoji]
> 
> << [middle finger emoji]
> 
> << [middle finger emoji]
> 
> << [middle finger emoji]
> 
> << [middle finger emoji]
> 
> >> What are you, 12? I'm trying to offer you advice
> 
> << [middle finger emoji]

Tuukka turns his phone on mute and gently tosses it onto the coffee table to ignore any more of Hank’s messages. He can still hear Anton talking in the kitchen to Malkin, and the longer he talks, the more Tuukka's stomach turns. Anton returns a few minutes later looking, frankly, tired. Tuukka's settled down by then, sexually speaking. He can't even think of sex right now.

"What did you mean _I can't tell Tuukka_?" Tuukka asks, strained. "What can't you tell me?"

Anton raises an eyebrow and moves to pinch his nose which Tuukka has come to realize means he's telling a lie.

"Don't know what you are talking about."

"Don't." A jolt of tension runs through him, makes him ready to flee. Fight. Flee. He hates lies, "Don't lie to me."

He's burned enough bridges by lying, by keeping secrets and being ashamed. Anton stood on the other side of the river with him when Tuukka burned his bridge with Pekka years ago. He won't allow it now.

"I'm not," Anton insists, and he's fidgeting with his shirt sleeve now. Tuukka grinds his teeth tighter and rises from the sofa in a rage.

"Have you forgotten my grandparents and parents speak Russian? That I know Russian? I'm not a fucking idiot, Anton. I heard what you said."

Anton has the audacity to roll his eyes as he comes back into Tuukka’s space. It sets Tuukka off before Anton can even put his arm back around him. He glares at Anton and shoves away his hand when he reaches out. Truly, how can he be comfortable and have a home with someone who lies straight to his face? He can’t, Tuukka knows. He just can’t.

 

Coach gets sick of him dropping games and puts Anton in against Calgary. He has his own headphones tonight and listens to HIM almost too loudly for his own good. Brad suddenly sits on his stomach as he's lying out doing breathing exercises. He knows it's Brad before he opens his eyes in shock because who else would dare? If he was starting tonight, after _this?_ No one would be able to find the body of one Bradley Kevin Marchand.

But, he's not starting. So Tuukka takes out his earbuds and glares at his best friend instead.

"Turn it down, man. You'll get a migraine, and you _just_ had one." For once, Tuukka obeys without complaint. His head has already begun to throb a little bit, so he turns off the music entirely. He lays back down with an exhausted sigh and lets Brad lay beside him, shoulders pressed together, breathing in sync.

"I yelled at Anton," Tuukka whispers. He quietly tangles his fingers together with Brad's and feels him squeeze back.

"He'll forgive you."

"Yeah?"

He can hear Brad smile soft and sure.

"Yeah."

They lay there until Tuukka's phone dings to remind them that breathing time is over, stretching is done, and it's time to get suited up for the game. He whacks Brad's ass with his stick blade as they're going down the hallway for warm-ups and tries to hold onto that little bit of positivity he has left.

 

They lose, of course, and Tuukka leaves the locker room before media even begins.

 

> _Sportscaster 1: With captain Zdeno Chara out due to an undisclosed illness and goaltender Tuukka Rask having dropped three of the four past decisions, tonight's loss to Calgary was a tough one, wouldn't you say?_  
> 
> _Sportscaster 2: Oh, no doubt about it. Pastrnak managed to beat the Flames' goalie to prevent a shutout like the other night against Minnesota, but the entire game was just an uphill battle. One that the Bruins, obviously, did not win._
> 
> _Sportscaster 1: The situation in the Bruins' locker room might be getting a bit rocky as a result of this losing streak. They were a few points ahead at this time last season, and some of the frustrations about setbacks seem to be boiling over for the team. Let's take a look at the post-game from Anton Khudobin tonight:_
> 
>  
> 
> _Reporter: After the meltdown in St. Louis and Ottawa, were you expecting to be in net tonight?_
> 
> _“Coach tell us at practice, Tuukka and I expected it, but it was not after a meltdown. Two losses is no meltdown."_
> 
> _Reporter: Are you having to pick up slack where Tuukka is failing?_
> 
> _"What?"_
> 
> _Reporter: Do you think Tuukka is declining?_
> 
> _"Are you [bleep]ing kidding me?”_
> 
> _Reporter: Excuse me?_
> 
> _“No, no excuse you. You want to know who declining? Mike Richards. Mikko Koivu. Antti Niemi. They declining. Dustin Brown. Declining. Brian Elliot. Declining. Tuukka? Tuukka not declining.”_
> 
> _Reporter: I’m sorry, I meant—_
> 
> _“Mean to come here? To Boston? To insult Tuukka to my face? In this locker room? Team have issues, but issue is not Tuukka, god [bleep]it. Don’t you dare say it is. He will drag this team to playoffs if it is last thing he do. So don’t you come here and say that [bleep] to me, ask me to speak down of Tuukka. I won’t, not one of us will._
> 
> _Other reporter, after silence: During the second period—_
> 
> _“I’m done. Excuse me. I’m done.’_
> 
>  
> 
> _Sportscaster 2, after a pause: Wow. I'd say that things are, uh, looking rough. Between the injuries and illness, the Bruins goaltenders in particular have a lot to catching up to do to keep their team in the race._
> 
> _Sportscaster 1: It's almost December, and going into this grind of a month, they'll need their defense to stop hanging them out to dry and for their forwards to find that scoring power that's been utterly lacking._
> 
> _Sportscaster 2: In other news, …_

 

Tuukka lets the remote slip off the couch and clatter onto the floor. His tea is lukewarm, forgotten on the table. He doesn’t really know how to process what he just saw, even on the third watch-through. Anton, swearing on camera multiple times, cursing out a reporter because they asked “ _is Tuukka declining?_ ” It’s a valid question that surely Murray is asked about Flower all the time, or Vasilevskiy about Bishop or Mrazek about Howard. It's the nature of the game, but Tuukka hadn't thought that question would be asked about him. Not yet at least; he isn’t even thirty.

He hears the shower turn off in Anton’s room and rushes to switch the TV to a different channel. There’s no appropriate response coming to mind except maybe _thanks_ but also _what the fuck_. He sits by himself on the sofa for a while longer, leg bouncing anxiously, before he guesses that Anton is in bed. He quietly opens the door to Anton’s room, but as quiet as he was, the light from the hall filters in, making Anton turn over in bed. Anton squints against the light,

“Tuukka? Something is wrong? Are you okay?” Tuukka takes too long to reply, so Anton sits up in a more alert position. “Tuukka? _Please_ , are you okay?”

The desperate tone makes Tuukka’s quiet break. He keeps hearing Anton’s anger at the press, his teeth-gritting fury.

“My head,” He blurts out. It’s his go-to response, and he feels like Tyler avoiding things left and right by saying he needed to go help his dogs. Anton frowns, and Tuukka knows he’s about to ask about his medicine. “Can I sleep here? The air conditioner is too loud in my room.”

“Oh. Yes,” Anton exhales in relief and peels back the covers and shifts over a few inches so there’s a nicely Tuukka sized spot. Glancing, he checks to see the curtains are tightly drawn which Tuukka appreciates, even if this headache is a sham. He tugs off his hoodie and slips into bed with Anton. The room is dark and it takes time for Tuukka's eyes to adjust to let him see Anton's face a few inches away from him. The bed smells like Anton, wisps of his favorite coffee, a hint of aftershave, the recently used body wash. He feels safe here. 

"Tell me if you need anything," Anton urges in a soft whisper, and Tuukka unthinkingly reaches forward to tangle his fingers in the silver chain of Anton's necklace. Anton's chest rises and falls under Tuukka's hand. He tugs Anton in by the necklace and tilts his head closer to press his lips to Anton's firmly before letting the necklace go and twisting to lay on his side facing the other way.

"I just need to be here." He whispers without adding _with you_. Anton touches his hip under the sheets gently and the bed dips as he leans over to kiss the top of Tuukka's ear before laying back down to sleep. Tuukka hears him say good night, and he curls in closer on himself to try to get some sleep.

He dreams about the day on Lovells Island.

He feels the warmth of the sun on his back and the gritty grains of sand between his toes. He kisses Anton like he wanted to, until they're breathless and red, and Anton whispers sweet things to him the entire time.

He dreams about curtains and the feeling of comfort that surrounds him when Anton is near.

He could get lost in that feeling. Nothing else would ever matter if he could just hold onto that sense of security and unyielding affection. Even when everything else is wrong, Anton is _right._

When he wakes, he wakes to the same feeling of safety and _home_. Anton's face is tucked against the back of his neck, one hand having wandered under Tuukka's shirt to settle over his chest. He shifts on instinct and then stops, afraid to leave this moment in time. The sudden, soft press of lips to his neck and the murmur of his name are signal enough that Anton's already awake. Tuukka moves his hand under his own shirt to twine his fingers with Anton's over his heart. Anton apologizes shamefully as Tuukka realizes he's hard, pressed close to Tuukka with their legs tangled closer still.

"It's okay," He exhales, rolling his hips back a bit to meet Anton's. The noise Anton makes is weak, but he understands what Tuukka wants. Needs.

They've never had a chance like this. To be unhurried. Soft and slow.

Deliberate.

 _Curious_.

Anton kisses marks along his neck as he cups Tuukka's chest with one hand, rolling his nipple between his thumb and his forefinger to get Tuukka to groan. They explore how Tuukka likes that, how Anton dragging his dull nails down Tuukka's torso makes him shudder and keen closer still.

 _Is okay?_ Anton whispers as they shift, change. Explore. Tuukka nods, pants out a quiet _yes_ and begs him for more. He inhales the distinctive scent of _Anton_ as he presses his face into the pillows and feels Anton's weight on top of him, pinning him down. Anton slots his arms under Tuukka's, bearing his full weight down as they slowly grind together and Anton continues to mumble sweet nothings into his ear. _Your thighs, your thighs,_ Anton stutters and Tuukka says _please_.

He shouldn’t be shy, he knows. Anton strips Tuukka’s shirt off and then his boxer briefs too. They’ve seen each other naked plenty in the locker room, hell, they’ve even fucked before.

It’s not the first time, but it feels like a first time.

Anton runs his hands down Tuukka’s sides and strokes his ass, still mumbling, murmuring and riling Tuukka up inside. He wills himself not to shake as Anton slicks up his thighs. His fingers brush over Tuukka’s hole lightly like an offer for more. For now, they settle on just this: Tuukka on his hands and knees, Anton fucking between his thighs, his hands covering Tuukka’s own. Every exhale, every whimper and groan. Tuukka wants the memory of this moment burned into his mind. It’s perfect, just this. Just them.

Anton whispers Tuukka's name as he finishes, a soft broken sound.

He feels almost dizzy as Anton's fingers trail through the mess of lube and come on his thighs. Anton shifts, gets Tuukka on his back so he can drag the covers back over their shoulders, and kisses him in the soft warmth of morning.

“Anton,” Tuukka mumbles, “ _Anton_ —“ His hips buck up to meet Anton’s hand as he presses one of his fingers inside Tuukka. Anton covers Tuukka’s lips with his own as one becomes two and then Tuukka begs for three. His cock feels heavy against his stomach, but all that matters is the way Anton makes him feel in that very moment. The blankets around them protect them from the expectations and irritations of the real world. Here, there’s only the two of them. He whimpers against Anton's lips when he comes, and Anton swallows up the noise with another heavy kiss.

 

> 2:57 ~~\----------------------------|---------~~ 3:44
> 
> “ **Love Drunk** ”
> 
> Little Mix – _Salute_
> 
> ⏪      ⏸️      ⏩

 

"What is this? A dancing Finn? In my kitchen?"  

Tuukka jumps at least a full foot or two feet in the air when he hears Anton's voice behind him in the kitchen. He whips around and fumbles to snatch the phone out of Anton's hand. The speakers on either side of the countertop still blare music,

"TY $EGS … B00TY P0PPIN MIXX volume 6?" Anton says slowly as the smile spreads across his lips. Tuukka finally gets the phone from him and manages to pause the song, but in a heartbeat, Anton has the phone again.

"… Little Mix, … Hayley Kiyoko, Fifth Harmony … Justin Bieber, Nicki Minaj … who is Troye Sivan?"

"He's really good, okay, just— fuck, I thought you were getting groceries." Tuukka forgets about the phone for a second as Anton laughs and backs Tuukka up against the counter. He presses a soft kiss to Tuukka's jaw before replying,

"I will. Wanted to nap first, but _someone_ was playing music loudly." His cheeks burn only a hint. He had been so full of energy after the morning they had together. He was a wall at practice, beaming ecstatically as Zdeno and their coach complimented him. His chest felt like bursting with the realization that he had come to, and he was trying to waste all his energy on cleaning so that he didn't startle Anton with his over-eagerness when he got home. He was home all along, though, and Tuukka watches him thumb through the playlist as his hand trails under Tuukka's old Ilves sweater.

"There are over three hundred songs," Anton laughs, and Tuukka nods. He knows. "Oh, here's one—"

Anton hits play, and then picks Tuukka up and sets him on the countertop. He pushes his knees apart so he can fit between them, and Tuukka loops his arms around Anton's shoulders as music fills the room again. He fiddles with Anton's chain, giggling.

"So obsessed with my lucky necklace, aren't you?" Anton sneers. Tuukka runs his thumb along the edges of the pendant and kisses it chastely.

"It's precious to you, so it's precious to me." Anton smiles at this, and brushes their lips together again.

 _"You're_ precious to me, Tuukka."

He can't remember ever feeling like this. Giddy. At peace. Really and truly, in love.

 

> 0:53 ~~\------------|------------------------~~ 3:07
> 
> “ **First Time He Kissed a Boy** ”
> 
> Kadie Elder – _B O Y_
> 
> ⏪      ⏸️      ⏩

 

He can barely keep his hands off Anton at the bar after the shootout win against Carolina. Anton's joy is infectious, and the entire team is lit up with energy as they fill the booths and dance floor at their favorite bar. Tuukka stays pressed to Anton's side the entire time, his hand creeping up Anton's thigh more and more. The shots of vodka make his blood boil and he catches himself whispering filth into Anton's ear right before Anton makes excuses for them both and drags Tuukka bodily into the first cab they see outside of the club. He yanks Tuukka's hood up high so the cabbie can't recognize his face. Dragging Anton's face close, he kisses the taste of vodka out of his mouth until they're panting and almost ready to tear their clothes off. Tuukka throws a twenty at the driver to pay for their fare and stumbles to follow Anton through the lobby, into the elevator.

"—amazing, Anton, fuck, so good tonight—"

Tuukka bites a mark onto Anton's neck as Anton fumbles with the keys to their apartment. His hands dig into the denim on Anton's hips, and he whispers all the things he wants to do with Anton.

Anton curses at him as they finally get in the door, swears that he'll come before Tuukka even touches him.

They stagger clumsily through the apartment until Anton impatiently hisses " _couch,_ " and they end up there. Tuukka is quickly learning just how much Anton likes having him in his lap. His head spins, and he swears his phone is buzzing somewhere discarded on the floor with their jackets and shoes. He gets their belts open and their zippers undone rather efficiently. Anton is very quickly on the same page as Tuukka and he gently prods two fingers into Tuukka's mouth, letting Tuukka twist his tongue around the digits to get them wet. His cock is already hard when Anton touches him. He smears his thumb across Tuukka's head and glances down at how eager he is with darkened eyes.

"Already wet for me." Anton smirks, as if he isn't fully hard in Tuukka's hand. Tuukka nods weakly and steals another quick kiss. Their breathing syncs as their hands speed up. He adores the way Anton groans when Tuukka rocks closer so he can grip their cocks together, squeezing just enough. Anton pinches his nipple through his shirt, rubbing the cloth against the newly sensitive skin. He focuses on the right nipple for a moment, closing his mouth over it and teasing Tuukka with his teeth through his t-shirt. He laves his tongue over that spot again, making the cloth wet and smiling, satisfied when Tuukka moans.

 _Close_ , Anton mumbles in between kisses when Tuukka drags his head back up from his chest. His eyelids are heavy, and Tuukka isn't in the mood to deny Anton anything. His hand is wet with come afterwards, and their shared breath is ragged and uneven. Tuukka doesn't care for the shirt he's wearing, so he wipes his hand and lets Anton run his fingers through his curls, tilting Tuukka's head to kiss him sweetly in complete contrast to the desperation just a second before. Tuukka hums in contentment. The buzz of alcohol is already sweating its way out of his skin, but his body buzzes with a different type of pleasure. Anton gently ghosts his fingertips over Tuukka's nipple, just to get another little jolt out of him.

"Bed?" Anton asks.

"Bed." Tuukka nods.

Shaky-legged, they make their way to Tuukka's room where they both collapse, barely managing to strip down to their boxers. Anton slots himself comfortably behind Tuukka and nibbles affectionately on Tuukka's neck to mark him up for the next sunrise to see.

"Anton," Tuukka murmurs after the air in the room has settled into a comfortable, warm quiet. He feels Anton shift against him and is bold enough to say, "I love you."

Sleep overtakes him soon after.

 

As he's sitting on the couch, Tuukka feels through his feet that his phone is buzzing somewhere against the carpet. Anton's in the kitchen cracking eggs into a bowl for a late brunch of omelets. Tuukka leans down to feel around on the carpet without looking away from the weather predictions on TV. He glances at his phone to see a little comic Joonas had sent him and smiles as he thumbs through his notifications.

He stops.

> _Yesterday, 12:07AM_
> 
> Missed Call
> 
> **Peksi (do not call)**

There's no voicemail, no text. Just the notification of a missed call staring blankly at him.

"I'm moving out." 

Tuukka looks up at Anton in the kitchen. 

"What?" He says, quieter than he expects. Anton looks miserable, 

"I signed a lease with an apartment nearby, and I'm moving out in a few days."

 

He doesn't really know how he wound up at Brad's apartment. He doesn't remember driving or knocking on the door or anything, but Patrice is staring at him wide-eyed and panicking as Tuukka bursts into tears asking for Brad.

"Um," Patrice stutters out. He's used to Brad being a mess, and Tyler too, but not so much Tuukka. "Brad? Honey? Tuukka's here and he … really needs you."

Brad appears in an instant and takes Tuukka into his arms without a word.

"I'm going to go out," Patrice says hurriedly, grabbing his coat from the hook by the door. "I'll call for pizza for you two."

 

There's one slice of pizza remaining when Tuukka finally manages to vocalize something more than distressed half-Finnish blubbering.

"He's _leaving,_ Brad, Anton is _leaving,_ " He mumbles into Brad's shoulder tearfully.

"Oh my god? He asked for a trade?"

"What? No."

"He broke up with you?"

"We're not... oh my god, we're not dating. Sort of. I don't know. I told him I love him last night and then this morning I had a missed call from Pekka, and Anton said he was moving out and getting his own apartment." Tuukka inhales and exhales two huge breathes after he finishes speaking and dares to look at Brad's reaction.

"That's it?"

Tuukka pauses for a moment, then nods as he wipes at his nose with Brad's shirt sleeve. He makes a face, but doesn't complain.

"So you're a mess."

"Wow, okay, Brad. _You_ , poster child of messes, are calling _me_ a mess?"

Brad concedes with a little shrug as he pulls Tuukka back against him, curling the heavy quilt around both of them. Tuukka slumps down pitifully.

"I mean, I used to be, still am sometimes. But I've gotten better, I think. Patrice has helped a lot." Brad runs his fingers through Tuukka's curls soothingly. He drags his fingernails a bit for extra comfort, and somehow it makes Tuukka feel even more pathetic. They continue like this for a bit as the children on screen scream about being final contestants on MasterChef Junior. Brad settles his chin on the top of Tuukka's head and scratches behind his ears tenderly. He hums,

"You need a Patrice, babe."

Tuukka furrows his brows. Not that Brad can see.

"I need Patrice?"

Brad snorts,

"Oh hell no, he's mine. I mean, someone _like_ Patrice. Someone to balance you out, yknow. Like, in Dallas, Tyler found his Benns."

"Benn."

"Yeah, that's what I said. Tyler found his Patrice."

Tuukka chews on this for a moment.

"What about Patrice?"

"Huh? Patrice doesn't need a Patrice."

"No, I mean. Tyler already had Patrice, why would he need another Patrice."

"It's a fucking metaphor, babe, like— okay, my point is: maybe Anton is your Patrice, yknow?"

Tuukka doesn't respond for long enough that Brad wiggles his chin on top of Tuukka's head and tilts his head back so he can kiss his forehead.

" _I_ love you, Tuukka. You're my favorite Finn ever in the _whole_ land of Finny Finns Finnsters." Tuukka grumbles _I love you too_ as Brad peppers his face with little, gentle kisses. He curls up on his side and focuses on finishing the episode.

 

Brad offered to have Tuukka over to play with Patty while the movers came to take away Anton's stuff to the new place, but Tuukka declined. He sits on the kitchen counter in loose shorts and an old tee watching the strangers steal away bits of his home. Their home. He stares at the slow swirl of tea in his mug so he doesn't catch Anton's eye as he comes into the main room from the exterior hallway.

He's holding a shoe box precariously with one hand as he unwinds the scarf from around his neck. It catches on the edge of his necklace, and he struggles for a moment to tug it free. Tuukka wonders where he had gone for the past hour or two. The movers call out that they're almost done.

"This will be the last trip from here."

"Okay, thank you so much," Anton responds, polite as can be. Tuukka runs his thumb along the edge of the mug. Without looking up, he sees Anton's shoes come into view, then his legs. Then the box.

"I know you are … upset at me," Anton begins, touching the lid of the box carefully. "But I did not know how to say before. It was … shitty of me, and I am very sorry."

Tuukka keeps staring at Anton's hand over the lid, but he doesn't speak.

Anton hesitates, then pushes the box forward gently.

"This is early Christmas gift for you." Tuukka stares at the box for a few moments and then glances up at Anton's apologetic, expecting face. He sets his tea down and accepts the box but doesn't open it yet. His hand falls naturally where Anton's was, and Anton leans forward to kiss Tuukka chastely on the corner of his mouth.

He's left with silence when Anton leaves. Silence and a too-empty house.

He heaves a sigh and opens the box.

 

> >> He got me a cat
> 
> << Omg
> 
> >> A kitten, technically
> 
> >> [photo of a white and gray kitten curled up in a black, now fur-covered hoodie]
> 
> << OMG [shocked emoji, heart with sparkles emoji] ??!?!?!!!!! [cat emoji]
> 
> << THAT'S LIKE A MARRIAGE PROPOSAL
> 
> << BRUH [multiple shocked emojis]
> 
> << B R U H

 

"Anniiiiiii," Tuukka calls sweetly as he dangles the ribbon near her. The kitten totters on her four little legs and chases after the toy. "Anniinaaa."

She wears herself out after a few minutes and collapses in a petite pile of fluff on the living room rug. Tuukka carefully scoops her up and lays down with her in the crook of his arm. She blinks sleepily at him before dozing off again. He grabs for the remote with his free hand and begins surfing through the channels mindlessly. He stops on a few shows, but always changes the channel again. Anton might like that, Anton might like this. The thoughts keep popping into his head quicker than Tuukka can shove them away. He leaves it on some shitty procedural cop show that Anton would've _hated_ , and Tuukka absolutely ends up hating it too.

The wall next to the TV looks too empty without the bookshelves full of Anton's photographs and various knick-knacks from all over Russia. The TV seems too loud for just one person to listen to.

Tuukka's blood boils up with nervous energy, yet his entire body just wants to sleep.

"Someone to balance you out," Brad had said.

Tuukka stares at the TV silently and wishes that Anton would come back.

 

"Ane Rask is a cute name," Anton says as he drops down into stretches beside Tuukka. Tuukka is laying on his folded arms, legs in the splits. He hums,

"I call her Anniina."

"Even more cute." Tuukka watches Anton offer him an earbud to listen to his music. Tuukka is starting tonight, and it's tradition that it's his music that is played. He props himself up into a sitting position and folds his legs in a different way. Still eyeing the earbud, Tuukka feels his shoulders just sink a bit and then, all at once, the tension in him goes. Sometimes, it's okay to break tradition, Tuukka considers.

He takes the offering, and leads Anton through stretches as his weird Russian synth-pop plays.

He falls into the zone and doesn't break his focus once. He sees the swarming red jerseys on the other end, meets Carey's gaze across the ice. He shakes off the tying goal from Montreal and stays sharp all the way through OT. The boos and jeers after the game winner by Spooner are the first things he hears in three or four hours. Nothing else mattered, just getting the win.

Zdeno tells him how fucking proud he is, and the boys all cheer for him when he gets into the locker room. He smiles at the team, his team, and feels Anton's eyes on him the entire time.

"You were so beautiful, Tuukka," The bus is loud and crowded, and Anton's lips are at his ear the entire ride back to the hotel. Tuukka wonders if anybody else heard the filth Anton was whispering, all the ideas of how to celebrate the win. He put his hand on Tuukka's upper thigh at one point and even though it never moved, the pressure and the reminder of what was to come made Tuukka start to sweat.

Last time was different.

Tuukka's bones had started to show, he had lost so much weight during the Cup run.

Anton's hands were rough, but not as rough as Tuukka had needed them to be.

He remembers he wanted it to hurt. He didn't want to be cherished or loved, he wanted to be _fucked_. He wanted to forget how he'd let his team down, how he'd let the entire city down. How he'd let himself down.

He wanted to forget, and when the guilt and anger was still there in the morning, his stomach turned inside out in the ceramic bowl of his bathroom toilet.

Anton's hands are tight still. Rough, needy. Tuukka keeps begging him for more, and he always, always gives. His stomach is tight with anticipation, not dread, and this time, his eyes are clear not clouded with tears.

Tuukka straddles his lap and lets out a short sob as he sinks down on Anton's cock. His hands settle on Anton's chest, fingernails carding through the blonde hair as his hips find a good rhythm. He touches the pendant on his necklace, hooks his fingers on the chain.

"So fucking good tonight," Anton grunts as he shifts his legs and gets a better angle to fuck up into Tuukka. "Beat them, beat Price, fuck, so good, Tuukka."

Tuukka groans loudly when Anton starts to speak like this, and Anton's hand comes up to cover his mouth. Tuukka's face feels hot at the thought of their teammates hearing them.

"Don't— don't want team knowing," Anton smirks, "Only want me to know, my Tuukka."

Tuukka clenches down on Anton instinctively, and Anton bucks up _hard_ in response. His muffled cry just eggs Anton on.

"You're better, Tuukka, so better. Fuck, better than him, better than all of them, god— you're the _best_ to me." Anton shifts his hand and pushes two fingers into Tuukka's mouth, and Tuukka knows his cock must be just _leaking_ by this point. His body burns as Anton fucks his fingers into Tuukka's mouth, and Tuukka swirls his tongue around the two digits, getting them nice and wet with spit.

" _Beautiful_ , fuck, _my_ beautiful Tuukka," He grits out as his free hand grips Tuukka's curls and tugs him down for a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Tuukka cups Anton's face, moaning as he feels the two wet fingers teasing his already well-stretched hole. He presses one fingertip against the rim and asks,

"You want this? Yes?" And Tuukka melts, whimpering _please_ as his hips slow just enough for Anton to work one of his fingers in alongside his cock. Anton is already so thick, Tuukka wants to cry from how good it feels.

"Anton, please, oh my god, Anton, _Anton,_ Anton—" Tuukka's fingernails threaten to scratch the wood of the headboard as he fucks himself down on Anton in desperation. Anton doesn't stop talking for a moment, telling Tuukka everything from how sharp his form was, how much quicker he was than Price to how slutty he is needing Anton's cock like this, how hot he is riding Anton's dick. Tuukka cries out Anton's name as he comes, arms shaking as his hips jerk and stutter. Anton flips them over in a heartbeat, before Tuukka's head even starts to clear, and gets two firm hands on the back of Tuukka's thighs, pushing his knees to his chest as he begins an absolutely brutal pace. His necklace glimmers in the dim light peeking through the curtains. He calls him beautiful again, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, and _mine_.

"You're everything to me," Anton groans, and Tuukka chokes on his breath as he scrabbles to grip the bedsheets beneath them. His blood is on fire and his heart is about to burst and Anton's hands are so tight that he can't help but let the tears overflow.

 

"I meant what I said," Tuukka whispers as Anton's lips brush each of his knuckles. Their alarms haven't rung yet, and everything feels still around them in the quiet hotel room. "The night you won over the Canes, I said I love you and I meant every word."

Anton hums against his thumb, pressing a ghost of a kiss to the inside of Tuukka's palm as he opens his hand to kiss again and again. Tuukka wonders if this means _I know_ or _I love you too_ or—

"I could kiss you for days, Tuukka Rask," Anton murmurs against the inside of his wrist. His words coil warm in Tuukka's belly, and he leans to capture Anton's lips with his own, mumbling against him,

"I mean it, Anton, I love you." Anton watches his lips, watches his hand, his wrist, his bones, his chest. Anton looks everywhere but Tuukka's eyes until Tuukka grasps his chin gently with two fingers and pulls his face his way.

" _Anton_ —"

"I didn't think it was real." Anton's hand around Tuukka's wrist is tight, then all at once he lets go. His words make Tuukka feel small. Like all the world doesn't exist and only they remain, curled up, knees touching under this warm hotel duvet, faces only inches apart. "I didn't know how it real. I didn't …"

Anton's gaze is pinched and thoughtful. Tuukka doesn't want to breathe. His fingers slip off Anton's chin,

"I didn't think someone like you could ever love someone like me."

Anton looks like he's laid his soul bare,

so Tuukka bears his own.

"I didn't think anyone would," He starts. The lump in his throat hurts to swallow, the memory of seething rage and a hateful gaze. "After what happened with Pekka … I didn't think I deserved to love or be loved ever again."

His voice is soft, almost inaudible.

"And then you came back."

Gently, Anton presses his forehead against Tuukka's. Tuukka cups his face carefully, bumps their noses together as Anton breathes,

"I came home."

 

>   * Pick up cake from bakery, 17.00
> 
>   * Call Lauri back??
> 
>   * Gift for Joonas??
> 
>   * order flowers for Brad’s mom
> 
>   * Team holiday party @ David’s, 20.00 (DON’T FORGET GIFT!)
> 


 

Tuukka arrives with a car-full of rookies and one Brad, despite his every effort not to be relegated to carpool duties. At least they all say thank you half a dozen times over _before_ critiquing Tuukka’s choice in driving music. Brad tells them good-natured stories about when they were at their first team party and how Tuukka was so painfully antisocial back then, Brad had to get him half-drunk so he would socialize.

Tuukka’s ears burn as he remembers how uncomfortable he once felt in his own skin, around others. Only the ice felt safe back then, but now this team is his family. Boston, his home.

“Wonder how drunk Patrice will get this year.” Brad snickers as he elbows Tuukka gently on their walk up to David’s house. Their heels crunch the salted ice beneath their feet, and when Tuukka laughs, he can see his breath, soft and warm in the air.

“He was pretty bad last year. He danced.”

“I _know,_ ” Brad cackles. “He _danced_.”

Pasta yells as soon as he opens the door to see Spoons, Acciari, and Krug. He latches onto Krug immediately, much to the defensman's embarrassment.

"D-David, please," Krug hisses as Pasta begins to kiss his face all over. Spooner and Acciari sidle their way around, holding their gifts above their head. Krug finally manages to detach Pasta from himself and bustle him in the door. Tuukka and Brad give each other a look and enter after. He finds David in the kitchen and kisses his cheek hello.

"We aren't the last ones, are we?" Setting the cake down on the kitchen counter, Tuukka surveys the crowd. David pops the cork out of a particularly stubborn wine bottle. He follows Tuukka's gaze around the room.

"No, I think, um. Quaider is coming with Backes? And Chiller texted to say he and Killer are stuck in traffic." He offers a glass of wine to Tuukka who accepts. He pours another glass and hands it to Tuukka as well. "I think I saw Anton in the other room with Z."

Tuukka looks at the two glasses in his hand and gets the message.

Anton smiles when he sees Tuukka.

It straight up makes his heart flutter.

Anton curls his arm around Tuukka's waist and pulls him into his side. Tuukka tilts his head to capture his lips in a kiss and feels Anton smile against him. Tuukka hands over the extra glass and raises his in a toast. Zdeno clinks his glass with theirs as well.

"To friends," Tuukka says. Zdeno glances between the two of them with a fond look in his eyes.

"To family," He says softly. Tuukka toasts to that.

The party gets into full swing when Quaider arrives with an unmistakable hickey on his neck that gets everyone's attention immediately. Tuukka watches Backes sneak in, running a hand through his hair to comb down the mess _someone_ made of him. As a distraction, done purely out of pity, Brad convinces everyone to do shots and assures them it will _totally_ turn out better than last year. He personally swears that there won't be a drinking competition this time. Nobody believes him.

"To family," Zdeno cheers, raising his glass. The room erupts in joyous celebration, and Tuukka echoes the words back where only Anton can hear.

The team knows their trainers will murder them for eating all these sweets, and that's why those who brought them tried to make sure they were as healthy as can be while still maintaining peak deliciousness. Tuukka indulged and ordered a strawberry shortcake from his favorite bakery. David got three huge angel food cakes and there are bowls of fresh fruit for them to enjoy. Zdeno tries to curtail the shenanigans of the youngsters who are throwing food at each other to try and catch in their mouths. Patrice tries as well, but both to no avail. Tuukka lets Anton feed him little bites of cake with his fingers. His face is warm from wine, and he can't help but laugh as Anton kisses crumbs off his lips.

The youngsters all start to chant Patrice's name, and then the older guys join in too.

"Bergy! Bergy! Bergy!"

Tuukka looks over to Adam and Brad gently corralling Patrice towards the upright piano next to the Christmas tree. Patrice looks just drunk enough to be persuaded, but Tuukka gives him credit for trying to refuse. The duo manages to get Patrice to sit on the bench and then just like that, all the fight is gone and his hands are hovering above the keys.

"I haven't played in years, you guys, I'll be terrible," He says bashfully as half the team whips out their phones to film him. This is a huge lie, of course. Music fills the room, sweet and loving, produced by Patrice's deft fingers. Brad had told Tuukka how shy Patrice was about playing the piano in public. Here, though, he's among friends. Among family. Brad jokingly accepts Adam's invitation for a dance and take shim swirling and twirling to the middle of the room. Everyone laughs, but then Pasta is grabbing Krug, and Czarnik nabs Vatrano. Zdeno offers his hand to David, and David graciously accepts with a few words of Czech chuckled between them. Anton settles his arms around Tuukka's waist and tugs him into a gentle, swaying motion. Tuukka curls the hand holding his drink to his chest and the other around Anton's shoulders. Everything just feels

Right.

After a few songs, Patrice gets heckled into playing more fun songs, and then he says that _he_ wants to dance and abandons the piano altogether. The stereo picks up where he leaves off, and there's no holiday theme to the songs. Just fun and movement and jams. All Tuukka can see are his teammates' smiles and Anton's especially. Everyone finds a partner or two to dance with, and Tuukka fights back a groan as Anton's hands find his ass.

" _Anton_ ," Tuukka gasps as he feels Anton shift his thigh to press between Tuukka's thighs. Tuukka thanks whatever cosmic deity is out there that there's no more holiday tunes, because nothing would be more awkward than grinding off to the sound of _Jingle Bells_. Anton nips at his jaw gently, and Tuukka mumbles, "Someone could see, Christ, Anton."

"So? Wanna go somewhere they won't?" Tuukka glances around to see if anyone is watching them, but everyone is too consumed with other things. He'll blame the alcohol later if anyone asks where they went.

Tuukka makes sure the bathroom door is locked _before_ he lets Anton unbuckle his pants.

He really tries not to think about being in _David's_ house as Anton hurriedly preps him.

" _Fuck._ " They don't know how much time it will take for someone to notice that they're gone, so they try to be quick. He grabs onto the granite countertop when Anton finally pushes inside. It doesn't take more than a few minutes before Tuukka's thighs are trembling and Anton is jerking him off roughly in time with his thrusts. Tuukka's grip falters and he steadies himself with one hand on the mirror. His chest is completely red under his shirt, and his hair is a mess. Anton's brows are furrowed slightly as he makes eye contact with Tuukka in the reflection. He plasters himself to Tuukka's back and kisses his ear softly, presses his nose against the back of his ear as he pants Tuukka's name. Tuukka distractedly feels the corner of Anton's necklace digging into his back, but even this doesn't detract from the pleasure of having Anton inside him.

"Look at how good you look, Tuukka, fuck, look so good getting fucked like this, yeah." Tuukka's cock twitches in Anton's grip, and he takes himself in hand so Anton can hold onto his hips tightly and really fuck him hard like he likes.

" _Fuck_ , Tuukka," He grits out, thrusts getting more and more off-rhythm. Tuukka knows he's close; his voice shakes, "Look at you, Tuukka, _god_."

He feels Anton's next words before he hears them. Sees them on Anton's lips in the mirror.

"— _Love you, I love you, I_ —" Anton's words pull a broken noise from him. Tuukka's orgasm crashes over him, and he feels Anton's dick jerk inside of him. Anton grunts _I love you_ once more and fucks hard into Tuukka, spilling inside of him. Tuukka's head swims, dizzy from the orgasm and consumed by this raw, giddy pleasure.

 _He loves me_ , Tuukka thinks to himself as Anton loops one solid arm around Tuukka's waist. His knees are weak and shaky, and having Anton still pressed flush against him, still seated inside, gives him an overwhelming, unnamable feeling.

After they regain their breath and clean themselves up, Anton gathers Tuukka up in his arms again and kisses him without demand. His heart's still racing a bit, but Tuukka feels so incredibly calm. So centered. He touches Anton's face gently and murmurs those three words back to him easily.

The hard part is — the thing that makes Tuukka nervous and on edge — is the knowing look Brad is giving him as he sneaks back into the main living room with Anton in tow. His face is still a little pink, and he knows his hair doesn't look quite as neatly combed as when they arrived. They had tried their hardest to straighten themselves back up, but with one look, Brad is gasping and mouthing "oh my god" to Tuukka. Tuukka bursts into nervous giggles, and Anton laughs not soon after. Tuukka ducks into the kitchen to grab another drink, and Brad appears in an instant.

"Did you and Anton just sneak off to have a quickie?" Brad whisper-shouts. Tuukka smacks his arm and insists he will not respond. Brad nearly _shrieks_ then. "Oh my god! You and Anton just fucked! At a team party! _At David's house!_ "

"Ohhh my god, Brad, don't remind me about this being David's house—"

"You little slut, oh my god, you got dick at a holiday party, what the fuck, I'm so proud of you, bitch—" Tuukka shoves half a cookie into Brad's mouth to shut him up, and as they make their way back to where Zdeno is announcing the gift exchange, Brad won't stop hitting his shoulder and laughing. Anton pats the spot on the couch next to him that he'd saved for Tuukka, and Tuukka plops down beside him quickly.

The team holiday gift exchange was always a wild one. Zdeno disallowed Secret Santa because a few years ago, it went really poorly and people's feelings got hurt. So now they do a butchered, silly version of white elephant. Tuukka points at a few horribly wrapped gifts.

"Okay, who ignored their lessons from 'Bergy's Best Gift Wrapping Class'? Those look terrible."

"No, no, no, don't say who you are!" Adam interrupts quickly, "We all need gift-givers to remain anonymous, remember?"

"It had better not be any of you d-men or I am personally ashamed." There's some nervous chuckling from the Miller duo before Zdeno starts walking around the group with a bowl full of slips of paper. Tuukka draws the number eleven. Anton get twenty.

The shenanigans start from the get-go. Gifts are stolen left and right, threats are thrown, and wrapping paper covers the living room floor.

There's black and gold nipple tassels, a hundred dollar gift card to Dunkin Donuts. An "inflatable cock fighting" kit that includes two inflatable penises. The set of coffee mugs with matching poop emojis is a huge hit. A specially printed body pillow with a collage of Zdeno's face on it is stolen multiple times, hilariously.

" _Wow_ ," Spoons says sarcastically, holding a Blues ball cap and sweatshirt up and staring straight at Backes. "I wonder who brought this gift."

Vatrano is the perfect victim of the classic "Build Your Own Home Starter Kit" which is just one single brick. Liles had it last year.

Tuukka winds up with a finger-painting meant to look like him Hulking out in net spitting fire. He unironically loves it and plans to hang it up in his living room when he gets home.

Anton gets an adorable blanket with cartoon bears dancing on it that is actually surprisingly soft. He wraps it around his and Tuukka's shoulders and steals a little kiss while the group is distracted by David opening the next gift. Yeah, Tuukka thinks. Yeah, this all just feels _right_.

 

"—I know, mamma, I know." Tuukka closes his car door with his hip, groceries in one hand, gifts in the other. He cradles his phone against his shoulder as he makes his way to his apartment door. "Yeah, Brad's staying in town so he's looking after Anniina. ... Yeah. No, yeah. Yeah. ... I talked to Joonas, like... the other week maybe? We're both busy, but we texted, okay?" He can feel his eyes rolling as his mother nags at him over the phone.

"Tuukka Mikael Rask, are you rolling your eyes at me?" Tuukka makes an indignant noise as he shoves his key into the door and unlocks it. He uses his elbow to open the door, making sure to gather all the bags in his hands. Then, she asks, "Are you bringing Anton?"

He feels his face heat up as he kicks the door closed behind him.

"Why in the world would you ask me that, mamma?" His mom scoffs, as if it's a silly question.

"Bradley told me all about you two, and I think you should bring him home." Tuukka stops for a moment, hearing his mother's voice quiet. "I ... I know you never brought Pekka to meet us, but Bradley says this time is different, that … you and Anton are different."

Tuukka leans against the door quietly, setting the bags down in the tiled entryway.

"Anton's parents are coming into town for the holidays, mamma. He has plans." He pauses, taking a deep breath as he picks the bags back up to carry into the kitchen. He looks around for Anniina. "Things are different, mamma. … It's not the same as with—"

His heart stops. 

 

"—Pekka."

 

Pekka's eyes are as gray as he remembers.

 

"I... have to call you back, ma. Bye." Without looking away from Pekka, Tuukka hangs up the phone. He sets it down on the counter, and Pekka's gaze flits to Tuukka's hands, then back up to his face. 

"Hi," Pekka says, voice strained.

Tuukka doesn't know what to say.

"… Hey."

He looks at Pekka for a long time in silence. His brows are drawn, his mouth tight. His hands twitch on the back of the dining room chair, and Tuukka wonders how long he's been waiting. The groceries shift in the bags, and the oranges come tumbling out onto the granite counter. He hurries to rescue the fruit from falling on the ground and hears Pekka take a step forward.

“Do you … uh, need a hand?” Pekka’s voice is so on edge, a mirror to how Tuukka feels at that instant. The shock still hasn’t subsided, so he somehow accepts Pekka’s offer and then he’s standing at the fridge putting groceries away with his ex.

“So this is weird,” He states plain as day. Anniina squeaks out a meow as she winds a circle around Pekka's ankles. Pekka fidgets with the box of pasta in his hand before shoving it in the pantry awkwardly.

“Your backup— _Anton_ , that is,” Pekka clarifies; Tuukka’s never heard him call him by name. “He asked me to come see you. To talk.”

Tuukka shuts the refrigerator door. He stands there before stiffly motioning to the tea kettle in a silent question. Pekka nods, and Tuukka focuses on preparing them tea. He forces his hands not to shake.

“How did you get in here?” He asks. He hears a clink on the countertop and watches Pekka push something his way.

“You’ve lived in the same apartment since your rookie year. You don’t really change much.”

Oh. Tuukka picks up the spare key and stares at it.

“You keep your coffee mugs in the same place too.” As if to demonstrate the point, Pekka opens the cabinet to the right of the sink and pulls out two mugs. He holds up a red mug with white lettering that says “WORLD’S BEST BACKUP.”

“This one’s new.” His words tilt up at the end as if inquiring about it. Quickly, Tuukka steps forward to snatch the mug back and shove it back in the cabinet. He grabs one with the Red Sox logo on it instead. This mug is safe, this mug is his. Anton must have left the backup-mug here on accident in the rush of the move. Tuukka doesn’t want Pekka to drink from it. It’s too weird, he thinks, it’d be too much.

 _This_ , Tuukka thinks, suddenly realizing how he’s a foot away from Pekka. The closest they’ve been since— since the World Cup. _This is too much._

He backs up a step, then tries to subtly put more distance between them. It doesn’t escape Pekka’s notice, and he sees the shame wash over his face. Tuukka concentrates on pouring the two cups of tea without looking back at him.

“Pekka,” He pauses, trying to find the right words, "What are you doing here?"

He sets the kettle back on the stovetop; the noise of the two metals scraping together is harsh and loud to his ears. When Pekka doesn't give him an answer, Tuukka finally faces him and catches the deer-in-headlights look on his face. He wonders if he looks the same. He just feels tired. And weird.

"Can we sit down?"

Tuukka sighs and says _sure_ , handing Pekka one of the mugs and taking his own over to the kitchen table. Anniina hops up onto the seat next to Pekka and curls up into a little ball of fluff. Pekka pets her head cautiously, as if expecting her to bite. She just purrs instead. Looking around, Tuukka sees there's no bag anywhere in sight, nothing to indicate Pekka means to stay. He must have come here, to Boston, only to talk. The last time either one of them caught a flight to see each other, it ended in tears.

Tuukka shoves a lock of hair behind his ear and asks Pekka again what he's doing here. Pekka draws in a deep breath of air, and Tuukka raises his mug to his lips.

"I need to apologize."

Tuukka freezes. Pekka continues,

"For hitting you. For what happened at the World Cup, for … for losing my temper, blaming our loss on you. … In front of everyone, I …" Pekka stumbles on his words. He starts speaking quicker, rambling.

"I need to apologize for trying to turn our friends on you, for perpetuating the rumors about you, for … for calling you a whore, god, I'm sorry that I just disappeared on you after my hip surgery, I know you were so stressed during your Cup run and I was absent, I wasn't there for you, and I should've been better, I should've tried harder for you, for us, and I didn't. And I'm sorry for—"

Pekka stops and takes a deep, shaky breath so he can calm down. All the tension goes out of him, and his face breaks. He puts his head in his hands and confesses,

"For everything."

Tuukka feels his stomach drop.

"I'm so sorry," Pekka whispers, "I'm so, so sorry."

The clock on the wall ticks on as the silence stretches between them. Tuukka's chest is tight as he tries to wrap his head around this … this new truth. He's been waiting for years to hear Pekka admit his own fault in the failure of their relationship. Now that he's here, professing,

Tuukka doesn't know what to say.

He settles on simply,

"Why now?"

After a long moment, Pekka drags his hands down his face slowly. His eyes are distant. Gray. He drops his hands into his lap with a resigned sigh and leans back in his chair. He stops and starts half a dozen times, trying to figure out how to put into words something that very obviously is distressing him.

"I was thinking about—"

"It's been—"

"Shea, earlier, he—"

"I—"

"Anton, he—"

Pekka stops, and then, blankly, with no inflection, he says,

"After I got home from the World Cup, I had a panic attack."

Shocked, Tuukka stares at him.

"I … stood in my entryway and just … I couldn't breathe, I couldn't ... couldn't believe what I did. … I'm not that person. You know I'm not that person. But I … I lost it. And I just broke down and cried and …" He swallows tightly, "I know I was wrong, Tuukka, I know I hurt you, and I … need to make things right."

"Make things right?"

Pekka nods as he gazes back down at his untouched cup of tea, then at Tuukka himself.

"Anton told me that you …" Tuukka holds his breath. "He said you two have something good going on. Something real, … and he wants to make sure that you're happy."

He almost blurts out _I am happy_ , but he stops himself. He doesn't want to interrupt Pekka for fear that it might make him shut down again. This is already more than Tuukka ever imagined him saying.

"You apologized enough times, but I … never once admitted my own wrongdoing. I don't want what happened hanging over you or keeping you from being with Anton."

The look Pekka gives him is desperate, as if begging Tuukka to speak or, ideally, give him absolution.

"What about you? What do you want out of this, Pekka?" Tuukka's voice is quieter than he expected. He always imagined there would be more yelling, like there was last time, but his words are unaccusing. Honestly, he just wants to know why now? What would Tuukka's forgiveness give him? Tuukka wonders what Pekka's apology gives him.

"Closure."

Oh.

Tuukka counts how often memories of Pekka, of _them_ had invaded his thoughts in the past months. Years. It's too many for comfort, too many for Tuukka to really believe he's over it. He thought he'd stitched that wound together and let it scab over and heal, but. Maybe not. Maybe this is what will really let him — _them_ — heal.

"Closure," Tuukka repeats. From her chair, Anniina stands and stretches with a soft squeak. She puts her paws on the table and hops up. Her presence draws both of their eyes and brings a sudden softness to this all. Sitting directly in front of Pekka, she meows needily, demanding his attention. Pekka glances at Tuukka as though asking permission to pet her. He wants to tell Pekka that Annii will do as she likes, whether Tuukka gives her permission or not.

She looks tiny curled under Pekka's fingers, and watching her makes all of Tuukka's anxiety just. Disappear. Understanding sweeps through him.

"Is there someone for you? Someone you … want to be happy with?"

"This isn't about me—" Pekka starts, but Tuukka shakes his head to silence him.

"It is though. That is ... it's about us. Being happy."

Pekka scratches underneath Annii's chin for a moment before nodding. Three years ago, Tuukka would've hated to hear that Pekka found happiness. Three years ago, Pekka probably would've hated if Tuukka found it too. Sometimes, change is good. Great, even.

"He's younger. … Finnish too, actually, but I swear that's just a coincidence." Pekka's voice becomes lighter when he speaks of this person, he even manages a little laugh that Tuukka echoes. "He's sweet. Earnest. ... Kind. We're taking it slow."

Tuukka suddenly thinks about the young netminder sitting on the Preds' bench. Even just watching them on television, it was obvious to see how Pekka was all he could think of. He bites back his remark about their apparent penchant for back-ups, because surely Pekka knows the irony of his old words.

"I'm glad," Tuukka murmurs as he runs his thumb along the lip of his mug. A little smile blooms on his face, and Annii purrs again. He remembers the panic and pressure of their last encounter, and now, it's all gone. He feels lighter. When he speaks, he speaks honestly. "I'm really glad you found someone."

Pekka smiles, small but true.

"Same to you, Tuukka."

 

Annii dozes as they talk. Pekka drinks his tea even though it's gone cold by now, and Tuukka watches his kitten's tail flick ever so often across Pekka's wrist as she sleeps and dreams. Tuukka feels like he can breathe again for the first time in years. Pekka checks his watch at one point as he's talking and almost swears. Annii's ears perk up, and she blinks sleepily at them both.

"I have to go, or I'll miss my flight back." Pekka scoots his chair back, and Tuukka stands as well. He reaches to gather the cups from the table, but Pekka politely beats him to it.

"Do you, uh, need a ride to the airport?" Tuukka offers, mostly out of courtesy.

"No," Pekka says gently, "I'll catch a cab, but thanks."

Anniina claws at Pekka's leg pitifully, begging for attention again. Tuukka scoops her up and wanders to set her on the cat tree while Pekka puts his coat back on. They look at each other for a pause before Tuukka steps forward and hugs Pekka quickly. He feels Pekka tense up, but then after a pause, he wraps his arms around Tuukka and hugs back.

"Thank you for coming," He murmurs carefully. Pekka gives him the slightest little squeeze before letting go. His eyes look watery again. He clears his throat with a little laugh.

"Thank Anton."

His heart feels warm and full. Pekka turns away and heads down the hallway toward the elevator.

"Have a good flight, Pekka." Tuukka calls as the elevator chimes its arrival. Pekka waves once, and then he steps on to the elevator and is gone.

When the door shuts and the lock clicks, the silence falls over Tuukka again, but it's a comfortable silence at last. Like all the buzzing and worrying and wondering went down the elevator and out the lobby and flew away on a plane never to be seen again.

Well. The Bruins face the Predators in a month, so realistically, Tuukka will see Pekka again, and soon. But hopefully, the worrying stays away. Tuukka picks up the spare key and turns it over in his hand. Hopefully, everything will be okay.

 

> **Updated contact:**
> 
> _Pekka_

 

Annii mews pitifully as Patty circles her suspiciously. Patrice tells Patty to be nice, but the Marchand cat just turns her nose up at the little Rask kitten. She huffs off to go nap under the Christmas tree, and Anniina cautiously lays down a few feet away.

"Like the opposite of us when we were young," Brad mumbles under his breath as they watch from the kitchen. Tuukka nibbles on a snickerdoodle and hums his agreement.

"Are you sure you have to go home, babe?" Whining, Brad tilts his head onto Tuukka's shoulder. "You can still change your miiind. I'm sure your mom won't be _that_ mad."

"Dude," Tuukka snorts. "You know my mom, and you know she _would_ be that mad."

They watch Patrice artfully rearrange the presents under the tree to make room for those that Tuukka brought just now. He gingerly builds a space around Patty without disturbing her which is, admittedly, pretty impressive.

"I'm sure, y'know, ... a certain Russian wouldn't mind you staying in town," Brad trails off, voice all syrupy sweet. Tuukka shoves at his shoulder weakly and grumbles and sighs. Anton's parents were arriving around the same time that Tuukka's flight to Helsinki would be leaving, and he had eagerly offered to drive Tuukka to the airport the night before.

"I wish you could meet my parents," Anton had murmured against the hollow of Tuukka's throat. Tuukka flushed at the mention of their parents in bed, but Anton just laughed it off and said that maybe one day, when Tuukka was ready, he could meet them. "You already their favorite goalie, mine too."

Tuukka bumps his forehead against Brad's and brushes their noses together once.

"Do _not_ open your gift early like you did last year. Got it?"

Brad rolls his eyes and mashes their foreheads together until Patrice nags them to quit being idiots. Tuukka laughs as they draw back, and he gives them both one last hug before heading out the door.

"Text me when you open your gift!" Brad hollers loudly, and Tuukka rolls his eyes fondly.

"I will! Hyvää joulua!" Tuukka calls back. He hears the soft whine of a cat, and then the collective cheer,

"Joyeux Noël!"

 

> Sat Dec 24 2016
> 
> Finnair 5694 / Airbus A321
> 
> Depart **BOSTON, MA, USA** (BOS) at 13:20
> 
> Arrive **NEW YORK, NY, USA** (JFK) at 14:45
> 
> 1h 25m
> 
>  
> 
> _Layover in New York JFK_
> 
> 2h 55m
> 
>  
> 
> Finnair 6 / Airbus A330-300
> 
> Depart **NEW YORK, NY, USA** (JFK) at 17:40
> 
> Arrive **HELSINKI, FIN** (HEL) at 08:50
> 
> 8h 10m

 

Anton doesn't let Tuukka get out of bed until the last possible minute. He's glad he packed the night before when it's a struggle to be allowed to even put his pants on. Tuukka kisses Anton's protests away and shoves his boxers into his hands, insisting he dress. They make it to the airport with barely any time to spare, and Tuukka thanks the ticket agent at the check-in desk for her speedy assistance before rushing off to security. Anton grabs Tuukka's hand just before the line and tugs him close. Their face are inches apart, and even with his baseball cap on, Tuukka feels recognizable in this city of theirs. No one spares them a second glance, though, and Anton smiles privately,

"I would kiss you if I could, Tuukka."

"You already kissed me plenty last night," He grumbles, embarrassed. Anton winks and adds,

"And this morning."

A voice over the intercom system calls for Tuukka's flight to board. He curses and hugs Anton tightly, promising to call as soon as he lands.

"I love you," Anton whispers, pressing a subtle kiss to Tuukka's cheek before letting go. He takes a small, wrapped box out of his pocket and presses it into Tuukka's hands. Tuukka looks at it once before holding it tight to his chest.

"I love you too."

He watches Anton wave embarrassing and enthusiastic from the other side of security as Tuukka shoves his shoes back on and rushes to his gate. To his relief, there's still a decent line waiting to board when he arrives. He stands there for a second before the curiosity gets to him. Shoving his passport and boarding pass under his armpit, Tuukka tugs at the tape holding the holiday-themed wrapping paper closed at the edges. He crams the paper into a random pocket of his carry-on and holds the plain box in his hands. He turns it over once, examining it. He opens it.

 

"Sir?"

Tuukka stares at the necklace in his hands.

"Sir, is this your flight?"

He looks up at the flight attendant and then turns on his heels to run. 

 

> " _Now arriving, British Airways Flight 213 from London Heathrow, connecting flight from Moscow_ _Domodedovo. Now arriving, British Airways Flight 213_ —"

 

People flood the baggage claim area around him. Three different flights just arrived, and Tuukka looks through the crowd for Anton's face. He's panting and trying to regain his breath, but his chest feels tight, as tight as his grip holding the necklace secure in his palm. The edges of the pendant dig into his hand, a sure and constant reminder of Anton's love. Tuukka doesn't think he could ever forget, not after all that's happened, all that Anton has made him think and feel and _know_. He knows he loves Anton. God, he knows. Everybody knows.

It took them so long to get here.

 

> " _Baggage claim for British Airways Flight 213 from London Heathrow is at carousel number four. Baggage claim for British Airways Flight 213 from London Heathrow is at carousel number four._ "

 

"Anton!" Tuukka yells above the crowd. Anton's head whips around, and he stares in shock as Tuukka hurries his way through the crowd and into his open arms.

"Tuukka, your flight—"

He draws back only a little bit, only enough so he can open his palm to reveal the necklace.

"Ask me to stay," Tuukka blurts out all of a sudden. "Please, Anton. Ask me to stay."

Anton looks surprised for half a heartbeat, then his eyes go soft as he smiles at Tuukka. He curls his hand around Tuukka's, and the necklace feels warm and heavy in the space between their palms.

"Stay with me, Tuukka."

Tuukka feels his heart about to burst.

"I will." He wraps his arms around Anton again and holds on for dear life.

"I love you so much, Tuukka Rask."

Tuukka's eyes prickle with the threat of tears, and he turns to presses his nose into Anton's hair as he echoes these words back easily.

"I love you too, Anton Khudobin. I love you so goddamn much."

 

 

 

Tuukka wipes at his nose with the back of his sleeve as Anton closes the clasp of the necklace for him.

"Wait." He sniffs. "Shit."

Anton blinks at him.

"Your parents aren't allergic to cats, are they?"

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/glorypaid) | [tumblr](https://mjanmarks.tumblr.com)


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